


Falling for You (Literally)

by MermaidMayonnaise



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: ((That's also why the word count keeps jumping up)), Angst, How did I forget to add that tag it's literally a title, Hurt/Comfort, If someone (besides me) draws fanart for this I'll love you forever, It's finished. Whew., Jeremy is less anxious but still a twink, M/M, Michael doesn't deserve this, Nevermind this is just lighthearted banter and bad jokes, PSA: THIS FIC IS BEING EDITED IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER, Panic Attacks, SO IF YOU SEE DATE UPDATED RECENTLY THEN THAT'S WHY, Self referential to the point of incomprehensibility, bit of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 26,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidMayonnaise/pseuds/MermaidMayonnaise
Summary: Jeremy was fine with him being gay, obviously. No, what Michael was worried about was that his best friend would realize that he was unequivocally, irrevocably in love with him. And then promptly reject him.Which is what would happen if he told Jeremy how he felt.---------------------------------I saw an AU that Michael is hot without his glasses.The title came first. The rest followed.





	1. Da Exposition (Setting It UP)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, this is my first BMC fic. Enjoy!
> 
> Alternatively titled: Is Jeremy Jelly?  
> (In which the Germ has problems and vehemently denies said problems.)

The day was bright and sunny, but Michael’s mood didn’t match the weather in the slightest. 

“Chris,” he said irritably, or at least as irritable as someone could when talking to the cinnamon roll otherwise known as Christine Canigula, “I am not pining. I am bigger than that. I’m not just someone who likes their best friend-- I am my own person.”

Christine sighed. This conversation was not the first of its kind, and even her boundless energy was visibly wearing thin. 

“Michael. When Jeremy passed you in the hallway today and patted your hair, you blushed and stood in the hallway for at least thirty seconds.”

Michael blushed. Had he stared at Jeremy for that long? He hadn’t even realized. Just then, he spotted Jeremy, who in turn spotted him, gave him a big smile, and started walking in his direction. Was Michael’s face red now? It better not be.

Turning to Michael with a weary smile, Chris mused, “I’ll leave you to it.” She evidently regained some of her energy along the way, because she started skipping to her next class. Michael felt bad, because his complaining probably sucked away her energy. But it wasn't like he could complain to his best friend...

Jeremy had reached him around this time, greeting him with their signature handshake: clap, clap, foot tap. They both knew it was nerdy, and people quietly chuckled at them as they passed by. Although, after the Squip incident and the subsequent formation of what became known as the ‘Squip Squad,’ people tended to bother them a lot less. Maybe it was a side effect of hanging out with popular kids, but who knew?

“What’s up, my bro, my buddy, my pal?” Jeremy gave him a relaxed smile. That was good. They both had anxiety, but they had always been completely at ease around each other. Michael smiled back, trying to disperse his melancholy cheer. 

        “Dude. That was not a smile. You literally just bared your teeth at me. What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing.” Michael internally grimaced. “I just have a shitload of work to do, that’s all.” Michael was lying through his teeth, and Jeremy, best friend of more than a decade, saw right through it.

Jeremy swung his arm around his shoulders, and Michael tried not to lean into it, because he turned into a slut for physical contact when he was sad.

His problem, Michael thought to himself, was not his crush. (Not a crush when it's true love, his mind helpfully supplied. Thanks, brain.) Well, maybe it was a little bit. But his actual problem was that he couldn’t (wouldn’t?) do anything about it.

Jeremy was fine with him being gay, obviously. Michael had practically come out of the womb spewing rainbows and the stereotypical gay sass. No, what Michael was worried about was that his best friend would realize that he was unequivocally, irrevocably in love with him. And then promptly reject him.

Which is what would happen if he told Jeremy how he felt.

Jeremy was talking, and Michael felt bad for not listening. He quickly tuned back into the conversation, relieved to hear that Jeremy was prattling idly.

“--and Jake told Rich that if he won the bet, he’d give him fifty bucks and take him to the fast food joint of his choice! Crazy, right?” Jeremy chuckled, obviously amused by their friends’ behavior. 

Michael smiled at him, and faked a believable laugh. “Totally.” 

The two were headed to lunch, which meant that all the freshmen were returning from  _ their _ lunch, and in turn created a monstrous tidal wave of five foot tall, hyperactive monsters.

Jeremy’s arm was still slung around Michael's shoulder, and Michael didn’t want him to remove it. Physical touch from his best friend always improved his bad mood.

However, this made for a precarious situation, and both of their eyes widened as they realized the implications of it at precisely the same time. And then Jeremy, being the klutz that he usually was, tripped. On an unsuspecting, bespectacled freshman. Taking Michael down with him.

Michael yelped as he went down. He yelped again, quieter, when he realized where he had ended up.

Jeremy had landed flat on his back, and somehow through the magical powers of physics (Michael should have payed attention in class, damn it), Michael had landed face-down on top of him. The hallway quieted significantly as the curly haired freshman realized her mistake and hurriedly walked away, and the crowd resumed their surge to their next class.

Jeremy met his eyes, and suddenly Michael realized how close their faces were. Jeremy’s face had turned red, and Michael was sure his had too. They stared at each other, and for the first time since the Squip the awkwardness between them was palpable enough to cut with a knife. At least it wasn’t sexual tension-- and with that helpful thought, a loud laugh rang through the hallway, wrenching Michael’s mind out the gutter.

Rich and Jake were standing there, laughing so much that Jake had to lean against the locker to keep from falling. 

“Oh my- oh, my GAWD,” Rich laughed, and then snorted, sending Jake helplessly laughing again. “Your faces! Oh my god!” He elbowed Brooke (when had she gotten there?), who yelped from the pain but also managed to whisper, “Priceless!” through a storm of giggles.

Somehow the rest of the group had arrived as well. Michael, who was still considerably dazed from his fall, realized that he had lost his glasses. A flash from the camera blinded both of them further, and Michael intuitively knew two things.

One: Jenna Rolan, the school gossip but also their friend, had taken a picture of them in a compromising(ish) position. Two: there was no way that this wouldn’t have repercussions from the inevitable post on social media.

Jeremy groaned under him, and Michael quickly flopped off of him and to the floor next to Jeremy. His butt  _ hurt _ .

“Are you--” a giggle, “guys okay?” A feminine voice, but Michael didn't know who, so it was time to find his glasses. He blindly pawed out for them, stopping when they were placed in his open hand. His palm meet cool, thin fingers. Jeremy. 

Michael put them on, and fought of the split second of disorientation that came with putting on high prescription  glasses (he really was blind). After a moment, he had his bearings. Jeremy had sat up before he did, averting his eyes and rubbing his hip. Michael could understand the lack of eye contact; he had fallen on top of Jeremy, after all.

The Squad had gotten closer, forming a circle around them. They all were unsuccessfully holding back laughs, but at least they were blocking other students’ view of them. This was such an embarrassment. Michael stood up and held out a hand to Jeremy, who took it and hauled himself up as well. They looked at each other. A beat.

        Then they both started cackling and couldn't stop. Michael snorted and Jeremy giggled (giggled!) helplessly. Out of breath, they leaned against the other so they could regain their breath.

“Well,” Jeremy said, breathless, “At least now the school has evidence to back up the theory of our torrid romance.”

Michael choked. Then he exploded in laughter once again. “We should have had our backpacks on,” he gasped. “We really needed the power of boyf riends.”

The rest of the group, who had been doing their best at repressing their laughter, exploded again. Since Jeremy and Michael's sudden rise in popularity, they had become the school’s fictional power couple, or so Michael had been told. This might have been because of their friendship that had lasted an eon and a half; or, more likely, it was because both of them were very touchy-feely with each other-- probably caused by the said eon of friendship.

As the Squip Squad made their way to lunch, Michael tuned back into the conversation, and the rest of the day passed in an uneventful blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le gasp! (I feel secondhand embarrassment for my boyfs.)
> 
> Comments and kudos make the world go round!


	2. Ur Kinda Hot- But No Homo!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and the Germ talk. Jeremy lets something slip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title makes an entRANCE

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period that had seemed like an eternity, Michael jumped out of his desk like his life depended on it. His last class was  _ so _ boring that he bad to make a physical effort not to nod off, and even that didn't always work. Gathering his backpack and books, he shouldered his way through the hallway, looking for Jeremy. 

Every Friday, Jeremy would come to Michael’s house for what had eventually become dubbed as ‘Video Game Night.’ The two of them would go to Michael’s basement, which was lavishly decked in geek memorabilia, and gorge themselves on junk food while sitting on Michael’s two beanbag chairs. Then they would pig out and indulge in video games until their eyes crossed. It was unhealthy and would probably be the cause of their premature deaths, so naturally  Michael adored it.

Jeremy wasn’t at his locker, which wasn’t too strange-- he’d just walk to Michael’s beat-up PT Cruiser and wait for him there. (Jeremy had Biology for his last period, which was the farthest one could possibly get from the junior’s locker area, so he could be a while.) 

What  _ was _ strange were all the concealed looks that Michael was getting. As he walked over to his car, headphones secured over his ears, he noticed furtive glances from most of the school’s female population, as well as a decent portion of the male. 

Michael ignored it at first, but when he passed a group of female sophomores he swore he heard… giggling? He casually pulled off his headphones and tucked them into his hoodie. Meeting one of the girl’s eyes accidently, he was surprised when she hastily blushed and turned away. Was that the… girl from earlier? Michael noted her voluptuous hair, so yes, yes it was. The group turned to her, whispering, and-- yep. That was definitely giggling.

He sighed. Girls were so confusing. He suddenly was hit with the overwhelming relief that he was, in fact, straight as a circle, which guaranteed that he would never have to figure out how they worked.

Michael refastened his headphones and approached his car. Enter Jeremy, who jogged up to him with a slightly panicked look on his face. Michael was a bit surprised when Jeremy gave him a once-over and shoved him into the car.

“Wearing your glasses? Good,” Jeremy declared with all the confidence of a Renaissance prince. “Quick, drive! I’ll explain on the way.”

Michael gave him a questioning look as he hit the gas and peeled out of the lot. It evidently read as something else, although Jeremy blushed and continued talking.

“So, um, you know that picture Jenna took? When we fell?”

Michael gritted his teeth. Of course this was about that. “I'm almost afraid to ask… but what about it?”

Jeremy took a breath. “So, she posted it on social media, which was a given. Well, the situation was pretty funny,” Jeremy shrugged as a response to Michael’s look. “What I-- ahem, what  _ none _ of us expected was the school’s reaction to it.”

Michael began to get an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that he didn’t try to squash it down.

“No, no,” Jeremy swiftly assured him after glancing up and noting his expression. “Nothing bad. I mean, I think?” His voice rose on the end of the sentence, making it sound like a question. “It’s just, uh, when the people s-started seeing the p-picture, um…”

As Michael waited for Jeremy to collect his thoughts, it occurred to him that he was so used to Jeremy’s speaking patterns (ie his stuttering and pauses) that he didn’t consciously notice it anymore. It had improved after the Squip, which was maybe the only good thing that had come out of that particular situation. However, old habits die hard, and when Jeremy got nervous his stuttering started to bleed through.

“It’s just that you didn’t have your glasses on in the picture and now everyone thinks you’re super hot,” Jeremy burst out, in an almost unintelligible syllables otherwise known as Jeremy-speak. Luckily, Michael was fluent.

“The student body thinks I’m HOT?!” Michael yelled, and Jeremy covered his ears. Oops. He dropped his volume. “I don’t think a piece of plastic will affect how people perceive my spatial hotness level.” That was weird to say. In any other situation, Jeremy would have mercilessly teased him.

“Don’t shoot the messenger?” Jeremy said weakly. “I heard some girls talking about it in bio, which is kinda why I was late.” He fiddled with his phone in his lap. Wait-- his phone!

It was a red stoplight, so Michael took the opportunity to grab him and yell, “Show me the post!” Jeremy fumbled getting the picture up, and Michael was so tense that he almost shook him.  _ C-c-c-c’mon, c-c-c-c’mon, go, go! _

Finally, the picture came up and Michael snatched the phone from Jeremy’s hands. His anxiety flared up almost immediately, and he wished he hadn’t looked. In the photo, Jeremy was on his back on the ground, and Michael was (there was no platonic way to say this) on top of him. The only thing that kept Michael from bring completely on Jeremy were his arms, which were holding his torso up in a sad imitation of upward dog. Even so, their faces were too close together for society’s heterosexual norms.

Their position was bad enough, but what made the photo worse was the expressions on their faces. For one thing, both of them were very obviously flushed  a delightful beet red. Michael hadn’t known before that his blush was that obvious; even on his tan skin, the dull color bled through. In the photo, Michael looked shocked. That was fine. Jeremy, however, even though he was blotched in a color scheme similar to Michael’s, was torn between looking shocked and trying not to laugh. Laughing at him? 

Michael’s stomach twisted, and that was before he noticed the caption. Jenna had written,  _ Falling for you: literally!  _ And has tagged it  _ #boyf riends. _

He wanted to curl up into a ball and never see the light of day again. Was he so obvious?

Jeremy, who had been looking at him trying to gauge his reaction, read his expression instantly. “Oh, no, Michael,” he reassured him, “It’s just the ah, position, that we’re in that makes it funny! I mean, not that I think it’s funny, I just--” he cut himself off. “Michael, look! At your face!”

Michael looked, attempting to discern what everyone else seemed to get except him, but all he could perceive that was different was the absence of his glasses. When he said as much, he then jumped about a foot in the air when Jeremy yelled, “Exactly! Michael, you’re-- you’re an honest to god  _ hottie!” _

What…? Several thoughts rushed into his head simultaneously. The first was that Jeremy, his best friend/hopeless crush, had called him a hottie. The second was that if the rest of the school did too, that explained the glances and the giggles. Three: BOYF RIENDS? He and Jeremy had a ship name? He was flattered that the school even gave them attention, but still. It was just a throwback to when Rich scribbled into onto their backpacks as an attempt to subvert society’s gaze from his own queerness. 

As these thoughts ran through his head, his mouth decided not to get the memo, so he just ended up repeating, “What the fuck. WHAT the FUCK?” After a few seconds, after his thoughts had started to settle, he turned to face Jeremy. “You think I’m a hottie without my glasses?”

Jeremy blushed a vivid pink similar to the one in the picture. “Yes?”

Around this time, Michael had pulled up in his driveway and parked the car. He took this opportunity to dramatically throw his head up to the sky and wonder out loud if this was some kind of nightmare. He got a side poke in response.

“Look,” Jeremy reassured him, “It could be worse. For example, what if the opposite happened and everyone thought you were hella ugly?”

It was a sorry attempt at a joke, meant to distract him, so Michael gifted him with a half-laugh. Jeremy smiled tentatively back. 

“What,” Michael said, “are I going to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What ArE tHeY GoInG tO Do?? ((The author has no idea.))
> 
> Constructive criticism? Praise? Denial? Let me know below ;)


	3. Wheezing and Group Chats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Germ goes on the group chat to prove a point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy convinces Michael to consult the others for validation. The others, of course, being the Squip Squad.
> 
> Group chat names should be pretty obvious, with the exception of:  
> Jeans: Jenna (I wasn't feeling creative and didn't want to use GossipGirl)  
> 5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: Michael (I WAS feeling creative + I was recently introduced to the wonder that is the Vine)

Jeremy followed Michael into his house and started rifling through his pantry with an air of someone who had done it a thousand times-- which, of course, he had. Now that Michael had calmed down somewhat, he started doing what he did best under duress: laugh it off.

“So.” Michael waggled his eyebrows in what he hoped came off in a seductive manner. “I'm hot without my glasses, huh?”

Jeremy choked on Dorito dust, and Michael had to pound on his back. 

“Wait, don’t die on me now!” Michael exclaimed. “I'm kidding!”

After Jeremy had recovered his breath but not his dignity, he wheezed, “Not my words, you freakishly tall geek! It was the school’s words! Everybody else’s. Not me!”

Michael raised his eyebrows. In actuality, Jeremy had a couple of inches on him.  “Freakishly tall geek? That's a new one. Have you been reading  _ Calvin and Hobbes _ again?”

“I haven’t gotten over your growth spurt in middle school.” Jeremy deflected, even though at this point they knew everything about each other. “Let's go back to talking about you being hot.” He paused. “Wait. I didn't mean for it to come out like that.” He turned away, presumably to resume his attack on raiding Michael's pantry.

The owner of the junk food looked at him. “Actually, if you're done raiding my moms’ pantry-- which I now decree that you are-- let's go back to that topic. I say that I’m not hot. You and apparently the rest of the world say yes. There is only one way to resolve this.” 

A smile spread across Jeremy's face. “Group chat?”

Michael nodded. “Group chat.”

\------------------------

I’m_Right_Heere: Soooo... Y’all. About the picture that Jenna posted today.

Chlo_Fish: Jenna is an ICON

Pun_On_Brooke: agreed

Jeans: What abt it?

I’m_Right_Heere: Michael’s been getting a lot of unwanted attention. 

I’m_Right_Heere: And he wants to know why.

I’m_Right_Heere: Wanna tell him?

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: inform me. gift me the information that i desire

Jakey_D: dude. w/o the glasses

Jakey_D: u r

Not_Short_You’re_Just_Tall: SMOKIN’!!!!!

Jakey_D: was gonna say good looking but that works too Rich

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: blocked

Pun_On_Brooke: nonono it’s true!

Christiiiiiiiine: Tbh I have to agree!!

Jeans: There’s a reason I posted the picture

Jeans: Everyone deserves to see the REAL Michael Mell

I’m_Right_Heere: Have you considered working for the government Jenna?

Jeans: They already asked, but I set my sights higher

Jakey_D: I think im speaking for all of us when i ask if ur joking

Jeans: Wouldn’t you like to know ;)

Not_Short_You’re_Just_Tall: i would, actually…

I’m_Right_Heere: I’m temporarily assuming the role of the ‘Mom Friend’ to guide everyone back on track.

Pun_On_Brooke: Oh!

Pun_On_Brooke: Yeah, mike is actually cute

Chlo_Fish: BROOKE

Pun_On_Brooke: It’s tru! He has a symmetrical face, if i took a meat cleaver down the center of his skull i’d have 2 matching halves. Thats very important

Not_Short_You’re_Just_Tall: agreed. and don’t think for a second that i didnt catch the reference

Jeans: Ditto

Christiiiiiiiine: Agreed!!!

Chlo_Fish: … Yep.

Jakey_D: agreed.

I’m_Right_Heere: Jake, aren’t you straight?

Jakey_D: homeslice, have you got a LOT to learn

Not_Short_You’re_Just_Tall: he just high fived me and id like u guys to know

Chlo_Fish: *squints eyes*

Christiiiiiiiine: Jenna, are you taking notes???

Jeans: Not even going to answer that.

 

Jeremy looked up from his phone. He and Michael were in the latter’s basement, each settled onto one of Michael’s comfortable beanbags. They were worn, but he held on to them for sentimental reasons. It was hard for him to throw away memories, okay?

Jeremy looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Michael blinked at him, having tuned out what he was saying. “Sorry, what?”

“And there we go,” Jeremy repeated, retaining a somewhat smug tone. “The entire group. Even Jake, who I thought was straight until about five minutes ago.”

“Really?” Michael laughed. “Even I know that he and Rich are having a thing.”

Jeremy eyed him sourly. Michael grinned back, unrepentant. “Guess I am really that oblivious,” he said.

_ Oh, you have  _ no  _ idea _ , Michael thought to himself, and attempted to push his gay feelings into the tiny gay box inside his brain. He tried to crush it, but it wouldn’t yield. Stupid box-- this is why he didn’t take his advice from musicals, although freezing his brain sounded like a decent enough coping technique that could potentially apply to him. He’d have to try that sometime on a late night slushie run with Jeremy.

Speaking of which, Michael should probably have responded to him by now. “Yep, I guess you are.”

Jeremy gave him another stink eye. “Says the person who just zoned out  _ twice _ in the middle of our perfectly civil conversation.” He sighed, becoming earnest. “Seriously, is everything okay? You seem… off.” When Michael didn’t respond, he continued, “You have been for a while, since the i-incident. Oh my God, is this related to the... incident?” His voice became hushed everytime he said the word. “Cause Michael I’m still so sorry and I’m still trying to make it up and--”

“No, no,” Michael tried to soothe him as he saw his friend’s agitation. “I’ve just realized a couple things since then.” Seeing Jeremy’s horrified expression, he backtracked. “No, nothing like that!” He took Jeremy’s hand and traced a thumb over the knuckles. “You are still my favorite person.”

The thing that he realized was obviously his big honking crush, so technically Michael wasn’t lying. After the Incident (he capitalized the word in his mind, to him the situation was important enough to be differentiated), Michael had changed. Hell, they had all changed. The Squip had attempted to make them chill, but in reality all it did was fuck them up. After The Play (more internal capitalization), as he had laid in bed, he thought sadly that nothing wouldn’t be the same. And unfortunately for him, he couldn’t have been more right.

As Michael returned to the present, he realized that the mood of the room had changed. It was difficult to describe, but it felt as if the mood had deepened. Everything was imbued with more meaning, the colors darker, more serious.

Jeremy, who had let Michael ruminate for a while, put his head on Michael’s shoulder, quietly reflecting as Michael continued to do the same. The ensuing silence settled over them, and the two boys became lost in their own thoughts as the sun slowly set outside, washing the basement in peaceful, quiet blues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned? Kinda serious??  
> The group chat is definitely called "The Jeremy Heere Protection Squad" and I will fight those who disagree.
> 
> Lmk what you think!


	4. Don't Hurt My Boi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is in the bathroom. Nothing happens, and everything's okay.
> 
> Just kidding! (I'm honestly sorry.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what I believe is a description of a panic attack. Use caution.
> 
> Bit of vulgar language, but shouldn't be too bad.

When Michael woke up, it took him a second to get his bearings. The morning sun washed through the windows, sweeping alternating stretches of sun and shade around the room. A beam of sun shone on Jeremy’s sleeping face, and Michael was suddenly aware of Jeremy’s unconscious body next to his. His head was still resting on Michael’s shoulder, but the two had somehow shifted closer together when they had slept.

Jeremy’s shoulder pressed into his chest, but it didn’t seem to bother either of them. When Michael inhaled, he could smell Jeremy’s shampoo. Was that weird? It was kinda weird.

Helpfully, he became aware that nature called. As unobtrusively as he could, he gently shifted Jeremy off of him onto his respective beanbag. Then he tiptoed upstairs to use his bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

Michael looked at himself in the mirror. Honestly, he didn’t see anything worth much attention. It was normal, it was his  _face_. Recalling the events of the day before, it all rushed back. The fall, the picture, and, oh yeah, he still had a crush on his best friend. He looked in the mirror, and took his glasses off. His own ashamed face reflected back at him. He didn’t deserve Jeremy. Jeremy, who was so good and kind and loving and caring. Jeremy, who when he was nervous would hand him pieces of string and paper to fiddle with. Jeremy, who would reassure him when his anxiety flared up in the cafeteria, with all the people rushing around and shouting and yelling and shoving--

Michael fumbled the faucet and turned it on, and the rush of icy water from the sink jilted him awake. Suddenly, Michael was hit by something that felt like a tidal wave, knocking out his breath left him splayed across the sink.

As he struggled to put air back into his lungs, the small coherent part of his brain realized that the water and his thoughts had triggered a panic attack. And he was in a bathroom. Alone. With nothing but his thoughts, which caged him in.

He was useless. He was nothing. He only had friends because he clung to them and they pitied him. Strike that- only one real friend. Who he somehow managed to fall in love with. Michael couldn’t hold back a sob. He was too much of a coward to let Jeremy know how he felt, because there was no way in hell he would like Michael the same way Michael loved him.

Now that Jeremy wasn’t a loser anymore, he would eventually get bored of Michael and leave, and Michael would be alone again. In a bathroom. The irony hit him harshly, and he twitched on the floor, remembering that night at Jake’s party.

 _Get out of my way. Loser_. The sentence echoed in his mind, and Jeremy’s face, unbidden, rose up again. His face was twisted in a sneer, and he looked down at his nose at Michael, who felt like he might throw up. He moved out of the way, and Jeremy passed by him. No, he told himself, fighting back tears. That wasn’t Jeremy. God, he hoped it wasn’t. Jeremy had said the Squip was off, but Michael wasn’t sure. He had never told Jeremy what had happened in the bathroom, because thinking about it let the past come back. This is what happened… In his memory, he swayed, and settled on the floor, his back to the tub, head in the hands.

Tears slid down his face, and the past merged with the present.

Somehow he had ended up on the floor, and he pressed up against the porcelain of the bathtub. It was cold. Michael wished he could get sucked into it. Stupid world. He hated it. He hated its unfairness and its rules and its parties and its people. Maybe, he hoped, everything would just stop. Maybe-

 _Bang, bang, bang._ The door flew open, and Jeremy rushed in with a horrified look on his face. “Oh my God, Michael! Are you okay?”

Shame welled up, and Michael hid his face. He couldn’t look at Jeremy, or anyone else, right now. “Leave me alone,” he said roughly.

After a moment of hesitation, Jeremy firmly told him, “No.” He sat down next to Michael, holding him tightly. He paused, and Michael felt him trembling against him. That made two of them. “I’m not leaving you again. Not like- like l-last t-time…”

So he did know. Michael went limp against him. His head fell onto Jeremy’s shoulder, and he felt the soft cotton of his shirt. It had damp spots, and it occurred to him that Jeremy was crying too. Michael’s world cleared a little bit, his panic receding slightly in lieu of his friend, who was also in pain.

They sat there in silence, the lights flickering above them, the ground hard and uncomfortable. But they were next to each other, and the other was warm and soft and a much needed presence. Eventually, both of their breaths evened out. Michael spoke softly.

“How did you know to come?”

Jeremy shifted to look at him. “When I woke up, you were gone and you didn’t come back. I just… knew something was wrong.” Pause. “It sounds dumb, I know. But when I couldn’t find you, I went here and I knocked on the door, and when you didn’t answer...” He sniffed and wiped his nose, and Michael saw his eyes flick down to his wrist. And the white scars there. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

 _But I’m not okay,_ Michael thought.  _We’re all fucked up in some way or another, and I’m just more fucked up than most._ He did get what Jeremy meant, however. When Jeremy had found Michael the first time… He pushed that thought away when his breath hitched. What had his therapist said to do when this happened? Oh yeah, breathing exercises.

Breath in, hold. Breath out, hold. Repeat.

Jeremy held him, and he held Jeremy, and the world washed away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw. Poor Michael.  
> Everyone is fighting their own battles, we'll see Jeremy's later.
> 
> I wrote this in a big chunk about a week ago, so updates, if any, will be sporadic. Thanks so much for following along!


	5. The Boyfs are Just Hungry and So Am I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael mourns his anxiety, and-- wait, how did Jeremy get in his bed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dealing" with the aftermath, aka angst to fluff so fast you'll get whiplash. 
> 
> In between the lines is the flashback, in case it isn't clear.

Michael woke up utterly disoriented. If he was standing up, rather than sprawled on his bed (when had that happened?), the wave of dizziness and nausea that hit him would have made him drop to the floor.

Wait, seriously. How _had_ he gotten to his mattress?

\-----------------------

After the tears had dried on Michael’s cheeks and his shoulders stopped shaking, Jeremy slowly shifted on the floor to look at him.

“Hey, Michael,” he said softly. “I know you’re not okay, so I’m not going to ask if you are. But do you want to talk about it?”

This was routine. He and Jeremy both had anxiety, and had helped each other when one of them inevitably had a panic attack. It would have been humorous, the fact his attack was inadvertently caused by the boy attempting to comfort him from said attack. It would have been funny, but Michael felt like he had been run over with a truck, his emotions flattened and stringy.

“Not really,” Michael muttered. A brief look of confusion-- or was that… hurt? It was gone too quickly-- crossed Jeremy’s face. Usually the two shared everything between them, but Jeremy respected his boundaries.

“Of-- of course, man,” Jeremy said, clearing his throat. They both visibly tried to pull themselves together; Michael ran his hands through his hair, and Jeremy straightened his pajamas and checked his phone. “It’s 6:45, and it’s Saturday... Do you want to try to go back to sleep?”

Michael wanted literally nothing more. He felt wrung out and dry. “Yeah,” he said, his voice croaking. “I’d like that.” He tried to stand up, Jeremy with him, and promptly swayed with exhaustion.

Jeremy managed to catch him, a commendable effort for someone as lanky as he was. Michael tensed, feeling Jeremy’s thin, cold fingers on his shoulders, his wiry strength the only thing keeping him up. Since when was Jeremy strong? If he wasn’t so out of it, Michael would have been impressed.

By this time, Michael regained some of his balance, but Jeremy still had to haul him up the stairs. Michael was dragged along, following obediently on autopilot until his room came into view. Then his mattress. Then his pillow, briefly, as he collapsed onto it before closing his eyes.

In the background, he could hear Jeremy quietly getting out the sleeping bag in his closet-- they had sleeping bags at the other’s house for convenience.

“Jer, wait,” he mumbled, surprising himself. Jeremy was obviously surprised as well, because he heard something hit the ground with a soft thump and a whispered “Shit!” from Jeremy.

He moved over to Michael. “Hm?”

Michael mumbled something.

Jeremy told him that he didn’t speak pillowtalk, and that he’d have to speak up.

“Can you, c-can you, um, sleep here? With me?” Michael would have blushed if he was even in the same universe with his right mind. What was he saying? This was not proper behavior for bros. Best friends did not sleep together-- oops, he MEANT share a bed. He attempted to beat his thoughts back with a mental baseball bat. “I just, um…”

Both of them had always dealt with nightmares, but Michael had it worse. He’d rather not think about them, but he had found that physical contact helped.

Jeremy hurried to assure him, trying to mask the surprise in his voice and failing. “Yeah, the nightmares, right. Of- of course. Are you s-sure?”

“I-I mean, only if you’re okay with it…”

Jeremy crawled into bed with him and settled in, cautiously, like Michael was fragile. He supposed, at that moment, that he was.

It was awkward for the first few minutes, but as Jeremy’s breathing next to him became regular, Michael felt exhaustion settle into his body. He slept peacefully, with Jeremy’s warm body curled up beside him.

\-----------------------

So _that_ was how he was in his bed, and why there were the rumpled sheets and another pillow to support the evidence that another person had slept there besides himself.

Oh, God, Jeremy! Michael sat upright, his mind considerably clearer than before. Where was he? Michael stiffened as a thought came to him: maybe Jeremy was so freaked out by sleeping in the same bed as him, he had eventually freaked out and gone home.

Michael had messed up their friendship. Jeremy wouldn’t leave him, he knew (he HOPED), but things would be different now. He dragged his hands down his face, flopping back onto the bed. Curse his anxiety addled mind! Why was he so _stupid_?

As he lay on his sheets, thinking about what it was like to not have to deal with a crush on your best friend-- must be nice-- he realized that he smelled pancakes and froze. His parents were on a business trip, and his younger brother was staying at his own friend’s house.

Pushing down his thoughts of whether a frying pan would make an ideal weapon, he tried to think the situation through logically. Home alone. A burglar wouldn’t break in, and if they did, they most likely wouldn’t stick around to cook themselves breakfast. That left… “Jeremy?” Wow, he really hoped things wouldn’t be awkward between them.

“I’m in the kitchen!” A voice called. Michael’s hypothesis was correct. He mentally high fived himself, _Go brain! Functioning correctly for once!_ and shuffled to the kitchen, and were those _chocolate chips_?!

“Jeremy,” Michael said slowly, “since when do you know how to cook?”

“I really haven’t, and good morning to you too! I just know how to make breakfast foods. Fam con’s my extra elective, remember?”

Michael did, in fact. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean that you retained all that valuable culinary knowledge.”

Jeremy threw an eggshell at him, but misjudging the aerodynamics of the shell, missed. The eggshell fell to the floor and lay there forlornly.

Michael spoke up. “I just realized that an eggshell could be described as of an embryo exoskeleton. Also, this is the reason why you don’t do sports.”

Jeremy looked at him with dead eyes. “It’s too early for this.”

“It’s never too early, and just so you know, my analogies are… egg-celent.”

This time, a pancake hit him in the face. As Michael went to tackle the Thrower of the Baked Batter, he realized that this was Jeremy. Awkwardness could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author is extremely self-indulgent with fluff, and she apologizes.
> 
> Kudos help me feed my hamster, Hermione. Comments nourish her as well.


	6. Why Is Dustin Here? Heh, Heere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally normal with Jeremy. And then Michael opens his big, fat mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made a Heere joke. In the title.
> 
> Enjoy, you nerds. (I say this in the most loving of tones.)

The weekend passed quickly-- too quickly, according to the indigenous students of Middleborough High-- and before Jeremy knew it he was being woken up by an obnoxious blaring car horn. 

Between the two of them, Michael was the only one who had a car (an old, rusty PT Cruiser that Jeremy was tentative to step foot in for fear of it falling apart), so the responsibility fell upon Michael to ferry them to school in what he fondly dubbed his ‘well-loved limousine.’

Said person took it upon himself to be both Jeremy’s chaperone and alarm clock, and took great pride in doing so. Which is why, on that sunny Monday morning, Michael played his best rendition of “All Star” starring his car horn. The neighbors, sadly, never appreciated his quality music. In this case, neither did Jeremy, and Michael saw something, most likely an empty tissue box, thrown out of Jeremy’s room in the car’s general direction.

The tissue box was followed by Jeremy a few minutes later (out the door, not the window, although that would have been humorous), who ran out with his hair still in his eyes, tripping all the way to the car in the manner of those who had just woken up three minutes before.

“Jesus Christ and his cursed car horn,” Jeremy panted as he slid in the seat next to Michael, who greeted him cheerfully with, “You look like ass!”

“Shut up, nerd,” Jeremy said, while frantically running his hands through his hair in a futile attempt to look presentable.

Michael, who was still wearing that shit-eating grin of his hinting that he was very pleased with himself, pulled of the driveway and said, “What classifies a nerd, anyway? Anyway, I’m a geek, get it right. You nerd.”

Jeremy paused from fixing his hair in the rearview mirror. “Michael, I’m a geek too. You see, there is certain terminology for these things--” and the conversation dissolved in logical coherency for the rest of the drive.

As they pulled up to the school, they collapsed out of the car, still laughing at their antics. The PT Cruiser groaned under the abuse, and Michael saw Jeremy nervously glance at it. Cruiser: 1, Jeremy: 0.

“You know the bucket of rust is going to fall apart some day.”

Michael smiled at him. “Yep, so we might get as much use out of it as we can! Plus, ‘bucket of rust,’ really? What are you, a sixty year man who stand in his yard and yells at kids who play on his lawn?” Michael was, in fact, in a very happy mood today.

He and Jeremy had spent the weekend together. Jeremy was obviously trying to make up for the lost time during the Squip, and Michael was a liar if he said he minded. They promptly got up to typical teenage ruckus, which Jeremy had explicitly defined as  _ ‘Teenage ruckus _ , noun: the gradual decline of adolescence into childhood rather than full grown maturity’ because he was a nerd like that. Geek, Jesus, Michael meant geek, Jeremy, stop hitting him.

Speaking of school, they were going to be late if they didn’t move faster. Michael tugged Jeremy’s arm, who protested and dragged his feet, which only resulted in Michael dragging him along-- because Jeremy was a twig even with the addition of the muscles from the Squip Era.

As Jeremy was pulled unceremoniously into the entrance and down the hallway, protesting all the way, Michael’s sixth sense felt eyes on him. Then, when he looked up, he noticed the stares. 

Michael was used to stares from his time as a loser (He wasn’t a loser now? What?), but even now he felt distinctly uncomfortable. The stares were… different, somehow. He racked his mind, remembering the looks that people gave him from the picture of him and Jeremy-- oh. Were they still on about that? Some people needed to get a life.

A mental image of a flustered Jeremy rose, unbidden, in his mind.  _ Michael, you’re-- you’re a hottie! _ Michael blushed at the memory, and when his big, stupid crush stirred in his stomach he did his best to squash it. Mushy romantic feelings about his best guy friend wouldn’t do anything.

Plus, obviously, he wasn’t a hottie. He was a geek (and proud of it), not a jock with big strapping muscles and swaggering, confident demeanors-- even though they weren’t his type, oh God, did he have a type?-- and with that thought he mentally shoved everything that he was thinking in his rapidly growing mental box labeled ‘Gay Thoughts That I’ll Deal with Later (Never).’

He was unceremoniously jerked out of his train of thought when he noticed Jeremy looking at him and then scanning the crowd strangely and then back at him, eyebrows furrowed. If Michael didn’t know better, or was looking at someone else, he would say Jeremy looked… Possessive? Which was stupid, so he scrapped the thought. 

Jeremy was about as perceptive as a rock, so Michael quietly explained to him, “I think the stares are left over from. You know, The Picture.”

“Oh.” Jeremy looked uncomfortable, and his features twisted with a hint of anger, echoing Michael. “Don’t they have anything better to do?”

“I guess not.” Michael glanced at the students again, mentally tallying those who quickly looked away. Mostly girls… Wait, did he just see some  _ guys _ blush and avert their eyes? (And why him?) Middleborough evidently wasn’t as straight as it let on.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. As Michael and Jeremy neared their lockers (near each other, but different homerooms due to alphabetization), one of said guys (a strapping jock, and Michael hated himself for thinking that) approached them. Or, more accurately, Michael. Michael reckoned that the guy was in his English class, but he didn’t know the jock that well and was blanking on his name. 

“Hey,” Mystery Jock Dude nodded to Michael. “‘Sup.”

“‘Sup,” Michael responded weakly. He had gotten new glasses over the weekend (his vision sucked even more) and was waiting for them, so he was wearing contacts for today, and shit, did he hoped the jock wouldn’t beat him up. It hadn’t happened in a while, but as one of his favorite characters said-- his memory failed him as to which one, damn-- constant vigilance! 

Michael belatedly remembered his name. Dustin Kropp. Of course, he was one of the people at Jake’s party and-- nopedy nope nope nope, he pushed that thought away.

“I’m Dustin,” said Dustin unhelpfully, probably wondering why Michael was just standing there and sweating in his hoodie. “Hey, um, man, you’re gay, right?”

Jeremy stiffened in Michael’s peripheral vision. Michael didn’t blame him.

“Uh, excuse me?”

“You’re, ahem, interested in guys?” He phrased it like a question, which it was. Michael cursed his circular thought process. “I was wondering… if you’d maybe like to catch a movie sometime? The new Jurassic Park just came out.”

In the split second before Michael blurted something that he would regret, said thought process took hold, and a thousand unhelpful thoughts blurred through his overactive brain. Some of the most important ones were  _ I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him,  _ and  _ Wait, someone just asked me out? _ and most importantly,  _ Why does he smell like nachos? It’s 7:30 in the goddamn morning. _

“I actually like someone else,” Michael said, astonished at the words that came out of his mouth, but grateful it wasn’t about the mysterious nacho breath.  Seriously, it  _ reeked _ . “Sorry, man.” Hey, it was the truth.

Dustin looked a bit disappointed, but not surprised, for some reason. “Yeah, I assumed.” Why did he assume? He shrugged and gave Michael a small smile. “Good luck with that, bro.” 

As Dustin walked off, and Michael rebooted himself began functioning as a normal human once again, he noticed Jeremy staring at him.

“What?”

Jeremy punched him on the shoulder, lightly, because he was a skinny and had a BMI of 5 (Jeremy had showed him the nurse test results once, and Michael had laughed until tears streamed from his eyes, but that was another story). 

“You. Like. Somebody. Else!?” Each word was punctuated with a light punch somewhere else on his body.

“Shush!” Michael grabbed him, “Somebody’ll hear you!”

“You just told Dustin that you had a crush-”

“Jeremy, be quiet!”

“--A total,  _ random _ civilian jock--”

“ _ Shh!! _ ”

“--And not me, your  _ best friend _ ?!”

And Rich choose that moment to walk up, dragging a slightly dazed looking Jake behind him, saying, “I heard Michael say the words ‘civilian jock,’ and I conveniently found one...” before trailing off to survey the scene. His eyebrows rose when he saw Michael, who still had his death grip on Jeremy, and Jeremy himself, who looked like he wanted to murder a toddler.

“Um, bros, homies, what’s happening here?” Rich asked.

“Oh, my  _ best  _ friend Michael here just got asked out by a TOTALLY RANDOM JOCK!” Jeremy hissed.

Michael scandalously gasped, “Jeremy!” while Jake’s eyebrows rose along with Rich’s in an attempt to ascend into the heavens.

Michael hastened to assure them. “Don’t worry, it was nothing, at first I thought he was going to beat me up, ha, see, nothing to worry about. I told them that I liked someone else!” He fought the urge to slap a hand over his fat, stupid, useless mouth.

“Who?” Jake, of all people. Michael, very carefully, slam his head against the locker.

Rich’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, his expression said,  _ Dude, you told Jeremy you liked him?  _ and Michael sent the eye message,  _ No! _ and Jake screwed up his eyes in the universal expression of,  _ Oops, I fucked up _ .

Michael had to say something, quick. He obviously couldn’t tell the truth, so he had to tell a total lie. This was going to blow up in his face, but Jake would understand, because he knew who Michael’s crush was. It’s the school and Jeremy who didn’t. (At least, he assumed the school didn’t know. What was  _ up  _ with Dustin?)

Quietly, he whispered, “Jake, I like… Jake,” and looked down, pretending to hide his blush. Truthfully, he didn’t want to meet Jake’s eyes. They had only recently become friends. Jake, who was a pretty cool dude, didn’t deserve this.

He heard Jake’s voice, which dumbly said, “Oh,” which was just about what Michael was expecting.

“C-can we talk for a second, Jake? Alone?”

One acquiescence from Jake later, Michael pulled Jake aside, and Rich walked off with Jeremy. Michael thought he heard Rich quietly say to him, “Dude, you okay?” And he thought he saw Jeremy slightly shake his head no, but Michael’s contacts were bothering him and he couldn’t be sure.

Additionally, what he had heard didn’t make any sense, so Michael typed that as a misheard statement, like in the game Telephone, and dismissed it. He turned to Jake and they both started to meander to their homerooms. 

“First of all: I am so, so sorry,” Michael managed to choke out. “Secondly, we need to talk, because we now have a Grade A problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write. So. Much.
> 
> I love comments, and kudos feed my urge to write the story (read: torture the poor boyfs) more.


	7. Some Irrelevant Musical References

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which nothing happens except deploy some self-indulgent puns, but also manages to set up the next chapter(s).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh darn it y’all I made a bet promise with myself that I’d write and post the next chapter when I got a certain number of kudos. I got? A two day break?? Thanks, guys!!

Lunch, even though there was some stilted conversation at their table, was one of the most awkward experiences that Michael had ever been through. (The incident that took first place was when Michael learned the sign language gesture for constipation and had shown Jeremy on the bus, obviously not realizing that it looked like an obscene gesture.) Michael was sure Jeremy had been through worse than Awkward Lunch Hour, though. 

Speaking of Jeremy, the man of the hour wasn’t looking so hot. In addition to being a usual nervous mess, he was sweating more than usual and his eyes were slightly red-rimmed.

Jeremy wasn’t the only one who looked off-kilter. Rich looked better, but he also wouldn’t meet Michael’s eyes. Michael’s eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully; did he do something to offend him? He couldn’t think of anything, the last time he had interacted with Rich was this morning was the Dustin Fiasco, when Michael had blurted that he liked Jake.

To make it crystal clear, Michael did not like Jake. He thought Jake was super hot and all around a decent person now that he didn’t bully nerds, but he didn’t like-like him. Or, at least, Michael thought Jake was a decent person, now that he knew him a bit better. Still, when he and Jeremy had been bullied by Rich, Jake had usually stood by and watched in a bored manner, and ignored them entirely.

Michael winced. He hadn’t thought that pinning his fake crush on Jake was also admitting that he romantically liked his former bystanding tormentor. No wonder Jeremy looked angry-- he had a right to be. Michael had really fucked things up between them. The only way out of this was to fess up. But how could he tell Jeremy the truth? 

Christine, sensing the awkward atmosphere, tried to introduce yet another conversation topic like the angel that she was, one that hopefully wouldn’t crash and burn like those previous.

“So. Broadway.”

“Broadway. Musicals are cool,” Rich said.

Chloe turned around to look at Rich. “Really? You too?”

“Totally,” smiled Rich, “I really like the musical where the plant from space eats everyone. Broadway is wicked, man. I think the dentist sings a song about sadism.”

“Oh! Isn’t that called My Little Pet Shop?” Brooke piped up.

Christine looked at her, horrified. “Those are small plastic bobbleheads of cute animals, Brooke.”

Michael tried not to laugh. “This musical’s called _ Little Shop of Horrors _ .”

“Oh,” Brooke looked down, smiling. “Oops.”

“S’okay,” Jake said, holding back a smile, “Everyone already likes you, no one will think anything less of you for this one, albeit horrible, mistake.” 

The tension dissolved. 

Michael suddenly had a brilliant idea, one that would fuck with Chloe, because she had teased him about his hoodie a couple of days ago and he wanted revenge. Luckily, Michael had some blackmail, collected when he caught her discreetly humming  _ Waving Through a Window  _ when she zoned out in chemistry. The inconvenience of being lab partners.

Wagging his eyebrows at Chloe, he singsonged, “I know who else likes Br--,” 

For those who care, Michael fully intended to say Broadway musicals. That was why he jumped about a foot in the air when Chloe yelped, “NO!” and lunged at him over the lunch table.

“She likes--” Michael restarted. 

Chloe attempted to cover his mouth. “No, Michae--”

“Br--”

“Broadway!” Chloe half-screamed. “I love Broadway. It’s my passion. Musicals! So great!”

Michael stared at her. Did she really say Broadway? It had to cover the fact that she liked something else than Broadway musicals. Mentally, he ran over things that started with ‘Br.’ Bread? Breakdancing? BRINCLHOF? (Internally, after the initial surprise, he nodded to himself. Apparently he  _ was _ absorbing something from chemistry.)

None of those options made sense in this situation, so Michael brushed them aside. Maybe it was a person? Brooke was the only person he could think of whose name started with Br, but as far as he knew they were bought straight. Like hell he knew, so he let it go.

All these thoughts occured in the space of maybe two seconds, and when he looked up again, Chloe still had a hand over his mouth and a newly horrified expression on her face. Distantly, Michael heard Christine say, “Really, Chloe? That’s so great!” as her grin lit up the table.

Chloe smiled weakly, then grudgingly admitted, “Yeah, I really like some of them.  _ Dear Evan Hansen _ is good, too.”

“I really like  _ You Will Be Found,” _ Jenna said and raised her hands defensibly when everyone looked at her. “Hey, Christine isn’t the only one who likes musicals!”

“Apparently we all do.” Brooke laughed. “Anyone else want to confess their undying love for Broadway?”

Jake raised his hand. Michael looked at him and shrugged. He might as well drink the Kool-Aid.

“I like musicals too,” Michael said, “And no, Jenna, before you say anything, it’s not because I’m gay. Chris got me into them.”

To everyone’s astonishment, Chloe sang, “My boy's a homosexual, and that don't scare me none. I want the world to know… I love my dead gay son!” She had a decent singing voice, but Michael was more concerned for her mental health.

“Thanks… Chlo?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay.”

At the end of the lunch period, Brooke said, “Hey, guys, do you wanna... have a group hangout thing on Saturday? My family is away so it could be like our own little party!”

Jenna readjusted a clip in her hair, mentally checking her schedule. Michael was positive that it was just for show, which was a bit sad but certainly wasn’t any of his business. “Yeah, Saturday? I’m free then.”

“Jeremy?”

Jeremy, who hadn’t spoken all of lunch, jerked himself out of his own world, which included the now-shredded Jello in his plastic cafeteria cup. “Oh. Oh, sure! I’d love to.”

Brooke clapped her soft hands happily. “It’s a date!”

Jake looked at Michael and hid a smile, and Michael pointedly ignored him. 

“It’s a date.”

(After the Dincident (Dustin Incident, ha), Michael and Jake had walked away together, Michael had started stuttering, and Jake quickly stopped him. 

“Hey, dude, I know what happened. I know you have a crush on Jeremy, and I’ll keep quiet about it,” Jake said.

“Aw, thanks,” Michael said, then screeched to a halt. “Wait, how’d you know? Am I super obvious?”

“No,” Jake said wistfully, “I just know what to look for.” Whatever that meant.

And that was it. Jake apparently was a decent person after all.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I have planned for the next chapter... Oh, boy.  
> (This is not shameless advertising. I'm genuinely excited.)
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.


	8. Is Jeremy Jelly? (Pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be the party, but it got longer and I became distracted. Next chapter, I promise.
> 
> Jerm helps Michael with homework, with a healthy dose of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the chapter I promised, but I know what's going to happen next, which is the first step.
> 
> I just wanted to write that Michael almost turned into a stalker and the rating would have gone up. I didn't, because this isn't a page 80 fic.
> 
> Also, I'm on the search for P!ATD fans out there, because I need to yell about the flying piano at the "Pray for the Wicked" concert.

After lunch, Michael noticed a specific lack of someone-- specifically, Jeremy. Jeremy hadn’t looked good at lunch, so maybe he was sick. If Jer was literally any other person, Michael would have come to the conclusion that he was avoiding Michael, but this was Jeremy, after all, the boy who needed Michael’s help to tie his shoes until second grade. His bro, his homie. His crush.

Michael was laying on his back, pajama pants making soft crinkling sounds on his bedspread as he tapped his foot to the song playing through his headphones. As he lay there, he thought that he should write Jeremy a text, just to check in. Fumbling with his phone, thumbs tapping on the screen, he heard the  _ whoosh _ notification which meant his text had gone through.

 

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: hey jer evrythng alright?

 

He jumped when he got a response almost immediately.

 

I’m_Right_Heere: Yeah, of course.

I’m_Right_Heere: Um, why?

 

One thing that Michael noticed about Jeremy was his almost obsessive use of perfect punctuation. No matter how much he bungled his words in real life, online Jer sounded… Good. Professional. Did that make sense?

 

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: u seemed off during lunch. Dont tell me you like musicals too

I’m_Right_Heere: I do, actually. That’s why I did the play…? But, Michael, I’m fine. Seriously.

 

At this point, another one of Michael’s fantastic ideas surfaced. He and Jeremy were literally next door neighbors, and besides the fact that they were maybe twenty five feet away between them, their bedroom faced each other. When he was younger, Michael had once read of a method to send messages by tying a piece of paper to a rock and throwing it through the recipient's window. That experience had rapidly ended when Jeremy misjudged if his window whether Michael’s window was open and decided to send an ‘urgent’ message, and the crash of the broken window had given Michael’s moms a near heart attack.

Anyway, Michael could partially see into Jeremy’s room when he stood next to the window, and likewise for his neighbor (not next to their beds, obviously, because that would be super weird, and also take creeping to a whole new level). It was pretty funny, actually. They had both caught each other dancing in their rooms at some point. Which is why, when Michael stood up and went to the window, he wasn’t surprised when the view yielded the view of Jeremy’s room and not much else, included the owner.

If only he and Jeremy still had their walkie-talkies. In fifth grade, Michael had gotten it into his head that it would be super rad if he and Jeremy could radio in the middle of the night. His mom, after enduring incessant begging for a month, had gotten it for him as his Christmas present. If Jeremy hadn’t accidentally run over them with his car when he was backing out of his garage, maybe they would still have them.

The bedspread crunched underneath him as he sat down and picked up his phone. Michael was worried about his skinny pal. Even though Jeremy sounded like his usual self over text, not eating at lunch was a sign that everything was not ideal with Jeremy. Plus, he didn’t eat his Jello. Who doesn’t eat Jello? 

 

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: wanna come over? im struggling with this stupid math homework. who invented numbers? theyre just squiggles on ppr and nothing makes sense

I’m_Right_Heere: I’m doing it now. I’ll be over in ten minutes.

 

True to his word, Jeremy showed up to his room wearing pajama pants, a Minecraft t-shirt, and fuzzy bunny slippers. He was in the process of adjusting his papers and textbook, which was tipping precariously out his arms.

Michael heard the inevitable thump of the textbook on his carpeted floor and put down his writing notebook, which currently had doodles instead of words because he was suffering from a terrible writer’s block. Drawing was more of Jeremy’s thing. 

Jeremy, who was in the process of picking up his book and scattered papers from Michael’s carpet, waved at him. “H-hey.”

“Sup. Please save me from parametric equations,” Michael groaned. “It’s been two weeks, and I still don’t get what the fuck they even  _ are _ .”

The swivel chair that sat in front of his desk squealed as Jeremy hefted himself into it, even though he only weighed about twenty pounds. The papers were spread out meticulously on the hardwood surface, covered in nonsensical diagrams and Jeremy’s careful chicken-scratch handwriting. 

“Well, you’re in luck,” Jeremy picked up his pencil and motioned for Michael to join him. “I happen to actually understand this lesson. Even though I don’t see any actual use for parametric stuff.”

Michael prostrated on the ground. “Please, teach me your ways. Teach me the ways of math, mysterious though they may be.”

Jeremy held out a hand accompanied by a sigh and a smile. “Dork.”

 

Forty minutes later, Michael sighed his relief and rubbed his eyes, lifting up his glasses and balancing them on the top of his head. “You’re like my own personal tutor, Jer. What would I do without you?”

“Probably flunk out, which would be bad for me ‘cause you’re the one who writes my essays,” Jeremy teased, but his eyes were steadfastly pointed away from Michael’s face.

Wanting to make a joke about his lack of eye contact, Michael poked Jeremy’s side. “My face is up here, buddy. People look at each other in the face when they’re talking, isn’t that what all the cool kids are doing?” He paused. “Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if you were looking away because I didn’t have my glasses?”

“What d-do you mean?” He was steadfastly looking away, his face turning red.

Michael laughed. “Remember the attention that the photo brought to me at school? Apparently I’m hot without them.” He attempted to waggle his eyebrows seductively.

An awkward smile crossed Jeremy’s face. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to show you something. That post? Well… It got a ton, and I mean a ton of likes.”

“So?”

“I just-- here. Take a look at the comments.”

Michael glanced at the numbers of likes and unironically  gasped at the number. Jeremy looked tiredly at him. “I know. Now scroll down.”

The comments were varied. Some of them were people laughing or sympathizing at the awkward situations, but some were… weird, considering they were strangers on the internet. Some examples: 

_ Why are all the hot people in New Jersey? _

_ 10/10 would bang _

_ Woohoohoo what a power couple! _

_ who’s the guy on top? daYUM _

 

Michael looked exasperatedly at Jeremy. “Why does everyone think we’re dating?”

Jeremy let out an undignified squeak. “That’s all you’re gonna say about this?”

“Well, what do you want me to say?”

Thin hands gesticulated wildly in the air. “I don’t know, anything! This is such an embarrassing photo, and it’s going viral! I don’t know how you’re so chill about this--”

Michael cut him off. “What is there to freak out about? It’s not like we’re actually dating!” Frustration crept into his voice, and Jeremy subtly flinched. “Why are you making such a big deal about this? We’re not actually viral, and I’m not actually hot, okay? I’m just… me!”

“No, you’re not just you! Why don’t you  _ understand _ ?” Jeremy grabbed his shoulder. “You’re-- You’re trustworthy, and smart, and funny. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re amazing and I really like--” he backpedaled, “You’re amazing and I just don’t know how, no matter what life throws at you, you’re just so chill and  _ there _ . For me, f-for anyone. A dumb picture just doesn’t show how them-- e-everyone who sees it-- how great you are. I-I mean…” Jeremy trailed off, cheeks coloring.

Michael didn’t know what to say, so he did what he did best in tense situations: he made a bad joke. In a small voice, he whispered, “So does this mean I’m a hottie?”

Jeremy punched his shoulder weakly, because he was a lightweight, and the mood shifted so fast that Michael almost got whiplash. “Yes, but that’s not the point.”

“Aw, Jer-bear, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Fuck you.”

Michael cackled. “Apparently everyone else wants to.”

Jeremy collapsed on Michael’s bed, arm draped dramatically over his eyes. “Oh, my God. I'm never talking to you ever again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breaking news: the next two (slightly longer) chapters are written and ready to be posted! I'm waiting for a certain amount of kudos, so yes, it could be said that I'm holding them hostage.
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.


	9. Of Seaweed and Stairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I write about my hatred of stairs instead of getting to the actual plot.
> 
> I'm actually sorry, guys. The real plot will hopefully be next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my longest chapter yet, and it's about stairs. Oh my God.  
> ((Also, 666 hits. Nice.))

The rest of the week passed by smoothly. It seemed to Michael like it was building up to Saturday night, which was the day of Brooke’s party. As someone once sang in a song Michael couldn’t remember, ‘Who’s ready for my Halloween party?’ 

Except that was stupid, because it wasn’t Halloween, and Brooke’s party wasn’t even a real, full-blown party. Curse his introverted tendencies to build up suspense to events that wouldn’t be exciting to literally everyone else.

His anxiety made it worse, and in his boring classes (who even  _ wants _ to take Economics), he would construct numerous situations in his head about how the night would go. Most of them  ended badly, with someone in hysterical tears or one of them the burning house down. Oh, wait. Guess that one had already happened. (Woaaaah.)

It was worse when Chloe snippily informed them at the lunch table that there would be party games of the kissing kind, obviously. Fantastic.

All this thinking made the week pass rather quickly, and the hours passed like the ground was time and it was slipping away beneath his feet. 

(That was an interesting metaphor. He’d have to write it down later, maybe he could slip it into one of his stories. What if someone was writing him and they wrote about him having the idea and putting it in a story within a story? What if that person was a character in someone else’s story-- how meta would that be? 

He had to stop thinking once in a while because these trains of thought gave him a splitting headache. And an existential crisis. Like  _ Black Mirror,  _ but less sociopathic.)

Friday came and went, with Jeremy coming over to his house to play video games. After the Squip, Jeremy had explained that they were addicted to video games, and they should probably cut the time spent sitting in the dark eating junk fun down, however much fun it was. Michael had to agree, although a life without video games sounded terribly dreary.

It apparently was now an unspoken thing between them not to talk about Jeremy’s accidental outburst the other day. He didn’t say anything about it either, so Michael didn’t either. He pegged it on teenage hormones and left it alone.

The sun was setting on Saturday, which was the day of the party. At Brooke’s house. Which he didn’t know the address of. Shit.

So he texted Jeremy.

 

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: so i just remembered i dont have brookes address

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: and ur organized

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: help

I’m_Right_Heere: I have it. 

I’m_Right_Heere: With your car and my brains, we can do anything.

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: ill never let go jack

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay sent RoseNooo.jpeg

I’m_Right_Heere: The only appropriate response.

I’m_Right_Heere: By the way, when are we heading out?

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: ‘heading out?’ who r u, my dad

I’m_Right_Heere: I’d make a daddy joke but then I’d feel guilty.

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: ty

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: if ur ready we can go now

I’m_Right_Heere: Give me a few minutes and then we’ll leave.

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: ...

I’m_Right_Heere: Get your mind out of the gutter, I’m listening to a song and it’s honestly a bop.

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: u do u

 

Michael was at his kitchen counter, eating dried seaweed-- which was really good, don’t judge-- when Jeremy slammed his palm on the door, which made him jump about a foot in the air as he startled. Jeremy was clutching his stomach and laughing as he let himself in.

“I’m not even going to acknowledge you. You’re the worst.” Michael put a hand to his chest.

“No, you’re just faint of heart,” Jeremy smiled, then stopped. “Wait, are you eating seaweed?”

“No,” Michael, crinkling another piece of seaweed into his mouth, deadpanned. 

“Yeah, you’re not going to do that,” Jeremy said, pushing him off his comfortable seat on the granite counter island, unheeding of Michael’s protests concerning his current place of residence. “Let’s go.”

“Think I’m ready to leave, ready to leave, ready to go-o-o-o!” Michael sang, his mouth full of seaweed.

“Ew.” Jeremy wrinkled his nose, and Michael booped it, before running away as fast as he would, as Jeremy squealed in indignation.

Jeremy eventually tore Michael away from food (his proclaimed beloved) which Michael was still holding in his hand, and pushed him towards the car, claiming that trying to get Michael anywhere was like herding cats. This dissolved into them talking about Sarah Anderson’s nest comic series, which had the same name.

The drive there was just them being idiots, but when they pulled up to Brooke’s house they fell silent. As they sat in utter awe, the car idled on the massive driveway. The house was a monstrous mansion.

“Dude,” said Jeremy in a funny voice, “Her dad is  _ loaded _ .”

“I know Chris got you into musicals,” Michael’s jaw was still agape,  “but you gotta stop making references.” There was a fountain in the front yard. A  _ fountain _ .

“Now I know how Brooke is so fit all the time. If I had to run down this driveway every day with my backpack, I’d have smoking legs too,” Jeremy marveled.

Michael turned off the car, groaning as he hefted himself on his feet. Jeremy followed.

“I’d chime in with, haven’t you people ever heard of closing the goddamn dar?” Michael told him. Jeremy slammed the car door behind him in response.

“It’s much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.”

“There we go.” Michael walked over to him and went for their signature handshake, and Jeremy reciprocated.

Stumbling up the massive driveway, the boys couldn’t help gaping. The lawn was perfectly manicured, accentuated with marble sculptures, and looked like the epitome of white privilege to Michael’s eyes. He said so to Jeremy, and the white boy with skin as white as snow agreed, with no trace of irony in his voice.

After a long and arduous walk, they finally reached the door of the mansion. Jeremy tentatively knocked, and when they got no response besides the hoots and hollers from inside Michael banged on it. The door swung open, so they just let themselves inside.

The interior was as equally luxurious as the exterior. A massive foyer stretched in front of them, gleaming white, and two banisters spiraled up at the edges of the room. An actual, legitimate crystal chandelier hung in the rafters.

Michael clung to Jeremy, who clutched his arm in response. “If she’s so rich, why the hell does she go to Middleborough High School?”

“If this is Brooke’s house, I’m almost afraid to see Chloe’s,” Jeremy murmured.

The effect was ruined when a new chorus of raucous yelling started a new chorus.

“Yo,” Michael shouted in response to the yells echoing through the vast, empty room, “Anybody home?”

The shouts went silent, then quickly increased in intensity with phrases such as ‘They’re here!’ and ‘Come upstairs, you’re missing all the fun!’ and ‘Took them long enough, if you know what I mean!’

Jeremy looked at him, his lips pinched in exasperation, which Michael mirrored. Rich’s innuendos were the worst. Apparently someone else though so, because Rich yelled in mock pain as someone hit him.

“Where are you?” Jeremy shouted. Brooke’s voice bounced off the walls as she shrieked, “Take the stairs on the left and follow the screams!”

“Oh no,” Michael groaned, “My worst enemy: ascending stairs!”

“The final boss,” Jeremy snickered. Michael hated him.

“You have to climb them too, you know,” Michael reminded, attempting to knock Jeremy down a few pegs.

In response, Jeremy sprinted to the banister, leaping up two at a time like a goddamn gazelle. He was halfway up in seconds, which only contributed to Michael despising him even more. Jeremy’s only redeeming quality at moment was his legs, which catapulted him upwards at supersonic speeds, cause  _ damn. _ Maybe track and field would be a viable athletic option for him.

Michael walked to where the stairs started their demonic paths to the heavens and craned his neck to look at Jeremy, who was grinning down at him like a cat who had just deliberately knocked a vase over.

“How’s the weather up there?”

Jeremy pretended to consider the question. “The air’s pretty nice. It doesn’t smell like convenience store sushi, so that’s an improvement, at least.”

“How dare you?” Michael gasped in horror. “That’s it, I’m coming up.” Taking a deep breath, he looked at the stairs and started climbing. “A journey begins with a single step.” 

Jeremy looked bored. “Once you stop quoting greeting cards and/or Tolkien, you can join me with the others.” He finished climbing. “Bye!”

Michael shook a fist at where Jeremy had been a second previously. “Curse physical fitness! Curse stairs! And curse Jeremy Heere!”

“I heard that!” Jeremy yelled, his voice now having taken the echoing quality that Michael was beginning to hate.

Grumbling, Michael continued climbing. He looked down, then up, and gathered his courage, surveying the mass of ascending marble in front of him. A sigh escaped from him.

 

When Michael finally stumbled into the room where the Squad was seated, he was red faced and gasping. Jeremy, who was playing a game on his phone, glanced up, then returned his gaze apathetically to his phone. “Took you long enough.”

“Fuck… You…” Michael wheezed, clutching his side.

Christine looked at him sympathetically, and Jake silently handed him a bottle of water.

Once Michael drank enough so he didn’t resemble an athlete having sprinted a marathon, he joined the group, who were seated in a circle on the floor. His eyes caught the glint of a deep green bottle laying on its side between them. His breath caught when he realized what was happening, just as Rich yanked him into a sitting position in the circle. 

Dazed, he saw Chloe Valentine’s perfectly manicured nails grab at the glass.

It was a game called Spin the Bottle. With his friend group. Including Jeremy.

Somebody help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is going to be long.  
> Hey, I realized if I write 100 chapters, each about 1000 words, I'll have a 100k word count.  
> Brace yourselves.
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.


	10. Is Michael Jelly? (Pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game starts, crashes, and burns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Mike has problems and vehemently denies said problems.

Michael was probably making a bigger deal out of this in his head than he should have. It was just a game, and a kiss was just a kiss, right?

He had played games like this before, now that he had more than one actual friend. Even when Rich handed him a beer, he took it automatically and opened the tab, the pop and subsequent hiss already familiar. Another aspect of hanging with the popular kids was the alcohol. Michael wasn’t a huge drinker, with underage drinking being illegal and everything, but every once in a while he had a beer.

What was nice, with his friends at least, was that there was no peer pressure. If he didn’t want to engage in activities, he just had to say so. The only teasing he had to endure was light-hearted joking.

The beer was still cold, and it provided a contrast on his sweaty palm, still hot from his earlier exertion.

It was just a game, he told himself as Chloe spun the bottle, the spinning green a mesmerizing sight against the soft carpet.

All his internal reassurances went out the window when Jenna added, “Oh, and we’re playing with 7 Minutes in Heaven.”

Damn. That was an unwelcome addition. If a person spun the bottle and it landed on the same person three times (or the same two people spun to land on the same person for a total of three times), they had to go to the closet and shut themselves in together for seven minutes, presumably to make out. Thus the name 7 Minutes in Heaven. Kissing games were the worst.

Brooke cheered as the bottle continued its rotations. “Also, if you land on the same person twice you have to use tongue.”

The bottle landed on her (the shuttle has landed!), but only after Michael and Chris shot her horrified looks.

“T-tongue?” Chris stuttered, which was strange. Michael took pity on her.

“That’s extreme.”

“Sorry, guys, I don’t make the rules,” Brooke said smugly, you know, like a liar. She leaned forward and pecked Chloe’s lips. “Game on.”

“Ugh,” offered Jeremy, which was apparently his only contribution to the conversation.

“This would be a lot more fun if there were actual couples in the room,” Jenna sighed, “or if anyone liked each other.”

There was an awkward silence, but only for a second.

Unbeknownst to Michael, every single person except Jenna discretely shot a glance at someone else. Including Michael himself; he would have noticed this if he wasn’t too busy side-eyeing Jeremy, who had suddenly become very interested in the carpet.

“Well,” Jenna continued, pretended nothing had happened but keenly noting the secretive looks, “Since I’m sitting next to Chloe, I’ll go next.”

Michael anxiously looked at their set up. Starting with Chloe and going clockwise, it was: Jenna, Jeremy, Jake, Rich, Brooke, himself, and Christine. He was second to last, which should prolong the time to his agony. Hopefully, his friends would lose interest in this game by then. It became boring after a few rounds.

With horror, he realized he had never played it with tongue or 7 Minutes. With his luck, they wouldn’t tire for a while.

Jenna spun the bottle and landed and Rich. “Oh, my God.”

“Why the long face? Everyone wants a piece of this!” laughed Rich, grinning. He leaned forward and dramatically puckered his lips.

Chloe gently shoved Jenna. “It’s better if you get it over with quickly.”

Jenna cringed, leaned forward, and kissed Rich quickly. They both wiped their mouths after it, Rich fake gagging dramatically for Jake’s amusement.

“Hey, Jer,” Jake said between laughs, “you’re next.”

Jeremy, who had put down his phone when the game had started, fiddled with it anxiously before dropping it to the carpet. “Here we go.”

“Heh. Heere,” Chloe remarked unhelpfully, as Chris shouted, “HEERE!” simultaneously.

Jeremy looked at them, dead inside. “I don’t have to do this, you know.”

“No, no,” Brooke hurriedly reassured him, holding back a laugh, “Please go.”

Jenna started the chant, “Heere! Heere! Heere!” and Jeremy covered his eyes and groaned when Rich and Jake joined in. After a few seconds for dramatic effect, he took his pale hand, grasped the bottle, and spun it.

Michael felt his heart stop. Then, “Oh. It’s Brooke.”

“Aw, Jer,” Brooke said, “Still harboring residual feelings for me?”

Jeremy blushed, but with an impressive lack of stuttering, replied, “Apparently,” and leaned forward.

Everyone hooted at that smooth response except Michael and Chloe, but Jeremy only gave Brooke a small peck before pulling back.

“But seriously, y-you’re out of luck, Brooke. I-I like someone else.” Jeremy clapped his hands over his mouth, flabbergasted. Michael spotted a half-full glass of something alcoholic beside his spot. So _that_ explained his loose mouth.

The room exploded. “Who?” Chris screamed, which Jake rocked back and forth, and Rich yelled, “But what about boyf riends? What’ll happen to them?

Michael, for his part, was hit with a tsunami of emotion that, for a moment, left him breathless.

How could Jeremy like someone else? _Again_ !? Michael was there for the obsession with Christine. He wasn’t there for Brooke, but she wasn’t an actual crush so it didn’t matter. He was the one who had listened to the countless rants about Jeremy would _never_ get the girl, would never experience reciprocated love, would be a virgin for the rest of his _life_. How could Jeremy do this?

Michael knew he wasn’t exactly being fair, that there was no way for Jeremy to know that his best friend had been in love with him as long as he could remember. But he couldn’t help but feel so angry, so _furious_ that his shoulders stiffened and his eyebrows furrowed. That person who Jeremy liked, they’d never appreciate him, never know the amazing person who Jer really was, how _dare they--_

Oh, shit. General, the infiltrator has been identified. It was jealousy; Michael so was jealous he could have given the Grinch a run for his money. Sucking in a breath, he returned to the present world, where Rich was shaking a frightened looking Jenna and yelling, “Why? _Why_?” looking like his child had just contracted a deadly disease.

Brooke, Chloe, and Christine were having a furtive conversation, and Jake looked on with amusement, so Michael had to be the bigger person.

“You guys, leave him alone. None of us knows who he likes-” his voice cracked during ‘likes’ but he kept speaking, “and he doesn’t have to tell us. Lay off him.”

They looked at him in astonishment, gaping. A few people said, “It’s not you?”

“No!” Michael could have ground his face in the floor in frustration. “Of course not!”

Jeremy stood up jerkily. “I-I have to go to the bathroom.” He left, and the room fell quiet.

Chloe spoke up in the ensuing silence. “Nice going, guys.”

“I’m going to get Jeremy,” Michael announced, then left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went in a whole different direction than I intended it too. Oops. The next chapters will get it back on track. Now I need to write some hurt/comfort. Onward!
> 
> Update: Hey, y'all, even though I really like this story, I'll be devoting all my attention to my other fic "Experimenting", where the BMC characters are forced to watch the musical. You might want to check it out if this sounds interesting to you, or if you want more lighthearted banter. I'll continue this story eventually. Thanks, guys.
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.


	11. They Fall for Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael goes to find Jeremy but gets distracted because I am avoiding the inevitable hurt/comfort scene.

Michael’s socks padded softly on the marble floor as he attempted to navigate Brooke’s gargantuan house. Seriously, who even needed a house this big? He hadn’t even seen her parents yet.

Speaking of not seeing people, he hadn’t the faintest idea where Jeremy went. Michael hoped he really hadn’t gone to the bathroom, because as much as he wanted to comfort Jeremy, he was beginning to collect more unpleasant memories in the presence of toilets than he preferred. Surely Jeremy felt the same.

Honestly, Michael wasn’t sure why Jeremy was even upset. Having people harass you demanding to know who you liked was uncomfortable (not that he knew about that sort of thing, because he was completely obvious), but not to the point where one ran out of the room looking like they’re going to cry.

As Official Best Friend, Michael’s duty was to comfort Jeremy and vice versa, no matter what the other was going through at the time. At least, that’s what Michael told himself as he finished scouring the upper level with no sign of Jeremy. Including the bathroom; Michael pretended to wipe his forehead in relief because he thought he was funny.

He did not, however, think the situation was that funny when he realized that the only place Jeremy could have been was downstairs. After an internal struggle between self-preservation and BFF Duties, his Duties won. As Michael approached the stairs, the treacherous stone steps gleamed evilly at him. He hated them. If it were anyone besides Jeremy, Michael would have instantly left them to rot, no contest.

Cursing his fate, he descended the stairs. They weren’t as bad going down. (Yes, fine, he slid down the banister. What did you think he was, some mature teenager?)

After falling on his ass at the bottom, he got up, wincing.

“Totally worth it.” He made a peace sign with one hand, the other inconspicuously hiking up his pants. “Yolo.”

Michael wasn’t sure who he was talking to. The stairs, he guessed. Predictably, the didn’t respond, so he went to find Jeremy, which he should have been doing all along, before getting distracted by his stair escapades. Staircapades? Escastairs? He shook his head to clear it.

He wandered across the foyer, craning his neck to survey the chandelier. After assessing the uses for a deadly contraption on which hung sharp glass shards and only coming up with “dropping it on your enemies and riding the rope up” (thanks, Phantom), his legs went out from under him and he fell on his ass for the second time in as many minutes.

He got up, cursing the polished floors and his fluffy socks. Wait, he took that back. They were his favorite socks, and although he hastily apologized to them, they said nothing in response. Although Michael hadn’t expected for anything different to happen, it would have been pretty rad if his clothing started talking to him. Then it could grow googly-eyes and be a prop on _Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared_. Wait, no, that was a terrible idea. Weed wasn’t an appropriate on a fake children’s show. That was literally the only reason he came up with, unless he took into account that the experience was literally meant to traumatize him.

He had to stop spending time on the dark side of the Internet. Like Cyriak. That stuff was creepy. But it would be cool if his socks started singing a PSA about the dangers of drugs or something.

As he used his weed socks to slide across the smooth floor, which suddenly he realized he could do, he tripped, slipping smoothly across the foyer. Arms windmilling to keep his balance, and velocity higher than he would have preferred, he majestically sailed between the twin stairs, and went into a doorway while skillfully avoiding the walls. (Not. If he was skillful at sock slip’n’slide, he wouldn’t have gotten into the situation in the first place.)

The room, unfortunately, also had slippery floors, and Michael flew across them. Rollerblading at the rink didn’t prepare one for this. If he wasn’t scared for his life and the impending risk of a concussion, he would have whooped. Being as he was, Michael knew that this was how he was going to die. He saw a counter approach him, which meant that this was a kitchen and that he was going to crash into the oven and shatter the glass like that one kid in a Vine. A flash of blue also shot by him, which was strange, but Michael was too focused on his impending death that he didn’t put any thought to it.

Until he did.

And then suddenly a pair of arms caught him, his velocity pulling him down into a dip, the other mystery person forced to lean down with Michael or else drop him on the hard floor. They spun around, and if it was captured on camera and put in slow motion it would have been described as majestic. Michael felt like a ballerina. 10/10 would be spun again. Wait, what was he even thinking?

At the same time he registered who the blue blur was, the person lost their balance and they tumbled to the floor, landing on top of Michael. That was awkward, mainly because their chests were pressed against each other and their legs were inevitably tangled together. Due to the close proximity of their faces, he finally realized who his savior (?) also momentarily known as The Blue Smudge was.

“Hey, Jeremy,” Michael said (realizing that his ass would be hella sore after three consecutive falls) and Jeremy, whose face was uncomfortably close to Michael’s, looked into Michael’s eyes with his tear-stained, red ones. But Jeremy didn’t look like he was going to cry just then.

“Why does this always happen to us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. You thought.
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.


	12. Michael Feels the Feels^TM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still procrastinating on that hurt/comfort scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter has some angst, and it's 110% b/c I wrote it while I was panicking from my blatant summer work procrastination.

 “Why does this always happen to us?” Jeremy said, regarding their situation in apparent humor.

Michael, who was currently smushed underneath Jeremy’s twink body, fervently prayed to not have a ‘situation’ of his own. His libido did not rival Jeremy’s in the slightest, and yet here he was. Down, boy.

Jeremy’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at Michael. Michael could have spent an hour looking at Jeremy’s eyes and nothing else and didn’t care how cliche that sounded. His eyes were blue, but their exact color varied depending on factors like mood and what he was wearing that day. When Jer wore cool colors, his eye color popped out dramatically, but warm colors only made them look ethereal, floating in a sea of light comfort.

He was so gay. Normal best friends didn’t muse on their buddy’s eye colors and how they changed according to what their owner wore or how they felt.

When Jeremy was angry (which didn’t happen often but when it did he was _terrifying_ ) his eyes became dark, like the ocean roiling before an upcoming storm. Michael had never been a sailor on that specific sea when it was on serious storm watch before, except for the Halloween party which he had decided not to acknowledge and the squabbles that they had had didn’t count, and he was glad for it.

But if Jeremy was sad, his eyes paled to a hue equivalent to the sky right before the sunset, glistening with unshed tears. But when Jeremy was happy, his eyes sparkled a robin’s egg blue, glittering like sapphires that had been precisely cut and polished, and were so _azure_ that Michael could swim in them or even make a home there, because there was such a thing as too many ocean metaphors.

Michael could find a home, a comforting place to be or to rest or to just chill, in Jeremy Heere’s eyes, always. Jeremy was too oblivious to notice, but when Michael would look at him, surely someone noticed the utter adoration in his eyes, the fondness, the love that he held for this complete and utter dork.

Because he, Michael, loved Jeremy, his best friend of many years and counting. The word ‘like’ was shallow; it couldn’t possibly be used to describe and encompass the engulfing feeling of warmth that Michael would get whenever he looked at Jeremy.

He just wished said eyes would look at him the same way.

These clinquant eyes were what Michael found himself looking into as he lay on the tile floor of Brooke’s kitchen. The eyes were waiting expectedly for a sarcastic retort from Michael, and narrowed in confusion when nothing issued from Michael’s parted lips.

What _was_ going on in Michael’s head? If his current mental state could be summarized, it would either be a loading sign with an Error 404: Page Not Found message, or the room from _Inside Out_ where all the Emotions were running around and screaming while alarms and red strobe lights blared in the background.

All of this was caused by Jeremy’s face’s close proximity to Michael. He really was fucked for this boy.

“I-I…” Michael stuttered, which was weird, because he never stumbled with his words, “I- um, ha, funny you say that, because that’s true, it does happen a lot--” It was hard to think with his brain not receiving a signal on what to say or do next. “It’s like someone is coordinating this, how odd--” Jeremy was still on top of him. His lips weren’t full, but they had a very nice shape. “I came to ch-cheer you up, but I... think my clumsiness d-did that all b-by itself, ha!” He had to stop talking. He wished Jeremy would say something, something intelligent or witty or even charming, because Michael had had a revelation, he was Totally In Over His Head, he was in love with his best friend, and God, why did his heart feel like it was going to shatter into a million jagged pieces?

Right, because Jeremy, Straight Boy™, would never love him back. He liked him, obviously, because two people couldn’t spend as much time as they did together without some kind of mutual affection, but in their case, it was one-sided platonic, and one-sided desperate, hopeless pining.

For a millisecond, he hated, utterly despised Jeremy. How could he have fallen in love with Jeremy, who had never shown anything but platonic affection towards him? How could he just _abandon_ Michael just because a fucking wintergreen tic-tac told him to? How could he drag Michael into this situation, where Michael was feeling so many feelings that he felt like he was inhaling water?

Michael was choking, he was drowning, he needed Jeremy to say something--

“Hey,” said Jeremy, a humorous idea suddenly occurring to him, still smiling widely as though Michael hadn’t gone through a healthy dose of teenage angst and repressed emotions, “How funny would it be if I d-didn’t catch myself on my hands?” Said hands were positioned on either side of Michael’s head. “Our faces would have gotten super close, like _this_.” He helpfully closed the distance between their lips; close but not quite touching.

Helpfully jerked out of his oncoming panic attack, Michael was shocked. Michael was stunned. Michael was also embarrassingly turned on.

“Uh,” said Jake, who had suddenly appeared with the rest of the Squad at the door of the kitchen and successfully cock-blocking Michael, who was doing that job with the assistance of his emotions, and quite successfully may he add, “are we interrupting something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Cock-block" is such a funny phrase, I stg.
> 
> Alternate title: Eye Love U


	13. Bi Bi Bi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing happens, and another picture is taken.
> 
> N-Sync makes a title cameo. (Also, I think someone has that username, so I'm not as original as I think I am.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless fic recommendation: "Attention, Please!" by yellow_caballero. I worship their work.

“Are we interrupting something?” asked Jake. Michael wanted to tear out his hair in frustration.

 _Yes, you fucker, Jeremy was about to--_ actually, Michael had no fucking idea what Jeremy was trying to accomplish _._ Was Jeremy… attempting to flirt with him? Obviously not, since Jeremy was about as smooth as a ride on a Razorblade scooter on Brooke’s cobblestone path that led up to her house. Unless Jeremy’s goal had been to make him uncomfortably horny, which then his goal could be chalked up to a definitive success.

The silence continued to stretch in the vast granite counter topped kitchen. Jeremy had helpfully frozen in the compromising position that he had decided to assume. Michael decided that now would be an ideal time to answer Jake.

“No. Nothing was happening!” he yelped, quickly but regretfully pushing Jeremy off him, but not before a bright flash flared from Jenna’s phone, which flashed off his glasses and temporarily blinded Michael. “We weren’t do anything!”

Chloe scrutinized the two of them. “Sure. Whatever you say.” Meanwhile, Jenna’s fingers tapped discreetly on her screen.

“You mean, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Christine’s voice was muffled behind her hands. Was she… _fangirling?_ What was there to fangirl about?

“Or in this case, the excuse you _don’t_ ,” said Rich, and Brooke hit him.

“It’s n-not what you think,” stuttered Michael, although it totally was. He couldn’t even deny it with any emotion, because, honestly, he had wanted to let that moment unfold by itself, to see what would happen. Maybe, after pining so many years... But no, nada, nope, or as his cringy grandfather said, _No cigar._ “I went to rescue Jeremy, got d-distracted and slid down the banister instead-”

“Of course,” Brooke nodded wisely, because it was her house and she had done the exact same thing before.

“And after that, my ass hurt like hell and m-my socks were slippery and I slid like one of those skidding truck videos where “Deja Vu” plays in the background,” he paused as Jeremy reached over to adjust Michael’s glasses on his face, “and Jeremy, who was a Blue Blur, caught me. Thanks, Jer! And then we fell, but not before doing an awesome twirl and landed on each other.”

Another silence followed the rambling.

“That was the gayest thing I have ever heard, and I’m bi,” said Rich at the same time that Jenna pushed something that went _boop_ on her phone and happily announced, “Done!”

Everyone’s phones pinged, because they followed Jenna on Instagram (even Jeremy, who claimed that social media was for wannabes and had sworn them off), and pockets were turned inside out as everyone fumbled for their phones.

Christine was the first one to squeal, followed by the girls. The boys squealed too, and Michael blushed for them because he hadn’t realized Jake’s masculine voice could reach that particular octave.

Jeremy’s phone had apparently Apparated by itself to another dimension, because he was the only one not pulling his out and checking the notification, instead choosing to lean over Michael’s shoulder, resting his cheek on Michael’s shoulder as he looked at the screen.

It suddenly occurred to him that Jeremy may have been drunk, or at the very least tipsy.

Uncomfortable at the physical contact but grateful that it was Jeremy, Michael tapped on the notification, dreading what he was going to see. Was it going to be another picture, like last time? It definitely was, if the flash was anything to go by. He hoped that the picture wasn’t too compromising since now they apparently had an internet following (yeah, Michael didn’t really believe that either, and no one elaborated it on it, like so many other specific aspects of his life).

The picture popped up, and it was even worse than Michael had feared. It was the exact same thing as the other picture, except Jeremy was on top (get his mind _away_ from the gutter, damn it) and Michael retained his glasses and seemed like he had an idea of what was going on.

What _was_ going on? Well, the boyf riends were staring at each other, and their lips were approximately an inch apart. Michael’s lips were parted, and Jeremy had a bit of a smile on his, that little shit.

Michael was so confused. What did that smile mean? Did Drunk Jeremy harbor feelings of some sort of homosexual tendency, or was he just horny Jeremy on steroids? (Horny wasn't capitalized in ‘horny Jeremy’, because that’s just who Jeremy was. Michael loved the guy, but he wasn’t dumb, and Jeremy never particularly tried to hide it.)

Drunk Jeremy was not his favorite Jeremy, but it was above High Jeremy. High Jeremy was extremely clingy, but that was a story for another time. Not that Michael didn’t mind the clinginess, but since they weren’t as codependent as they had been before it was a chore sometimes. High Michael was a ball of emotions, and having the person he liked unabashedly cling to him was taxing on said emotions.

“But... you’re straight, Jeremy.” Jake was confused, especially upon seeing their expressions in the most recent picture. He knew Jeremy and Michael were best friends; AKA bros, buddies, pals, but the both of them continuously asserted the former’s heterosexuality. (Michael did so a bit grudgingly. Jake was oblivious, but not _that_ much.)

Rich shot Jake a _look_. This look said, ‘Jake, you idiot, shut the fuck up, and let them figure this out themselves.’ Jake always knew what Rich was thinking, and just everything about the dude in general. No homo.

Jeremy held up a finger in the general direction of Jake’s lips, swaying slightly on Michael’s shoulder. “Actually...” he slurred, "I'm bisexual. Did I never tell you guys?"

Perspective switch to a delightful panoramic view of Brooke’s quaint mansion. Suddenly, the birds were roused and flew away, as Michael’s resounding “ _WHAT?!_ ” and everyone else’s subsequent screaming echoed through the peaceful night scene.

The scene cut to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all, thanks for following along with story.  
> Writer to writer, I'd really appreciate some input, since I'm writing this story on minimal sleep, maximum stress, and absolutely no idea what I'm doing and where I want to go with this (except I know how it's going to end, but in between it's '???').  
> So you guys get some input, seeing as I'm probably going to continue this story considering it got a positive response! Would you like to see some more plot progression? Comedic dialogue? Cute boyf scenes? Keep doing what I'm doing? Your opinion means a lot to me.
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.


	14. Poetic Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT PART OF THE STORY. IT IS A POETIC INTERLUDE  
> Alternatively titled "My Life Was Boring Before the Event"
> 
> This is a crackfic that may also be a songfic but definitely is a rap written by one Jeremy Heere.  
> Sorry not sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Beth Harker’s crack poem in her story, “Stammer”
> 
> I highly suggest you rap this to a beat. That's what I did.

_“Now this is the story all about how,_

_My life got flipped-turned upside down--”_

There’s a record scratch. The lights flickered back on in the basement, and two teenagers blinked in the brightness.

“What the hell, Michael? This isn’t the song we agreed on.” Jeremy was dressed like a wannabe rapper, with a loose coat and aficionado sunglasses.

Michael looked up from his table in the back, which was set up like a DJ’s stand. “Whoops. Sorry.” He pushed his headphones back down over one ear, holding the padding onto his other with his hands.

_“Hey, Macklemore! Can we go thrift shopping?_

_What, what, what, what…”_

“No, not this song!” Jeremy screeched. “Wait,” he hesitated, “actually, keep this beat.”

Michael nodded to him, doing weird spin things with his hands and operating the stand the way only DJs know how to do. “Go for it.”

Jeremy took a deep breath, standing in the middle of the makeshift stage. They were in Michael’s basement, but that didn’t matter, because he was in the zone. A spotlight shone on him.

“Ready?” Michael asked him.

“Let’s do this.”

 _Bum bum tsh da da bum bum tsh_ came from the speakers. Jeremy started rapping.

“My life was pretty boring before the event,

I learned to cook pasta, I learned to pay rent.”

(“Hey!” Michael backed him up.)

“But things got exciting when I grew tired

And realized what the things were I desired.

I wanted to be cool; I wanted to be hip,

So I decided to purchase a Squip.

It seemed amazing that a tiny little pill

Could actually help me Be More Chill.

So I went to the store dragging Michael beside me

But wait! There’s more! You’re all still behind me!

See, I wanted to do More Than Survive.

Do things! Achieve stuff! Feel more… alive.

At school, I was bullied by my popular peers

Picked up! Drawn on! Just because I was weird.

One day Rich, he came up to me and said,

‘Hey, man, here’s a pill that fucks with your head!’

Like a chump I went and got him the money

But then at the mall, I suddenly felt kinda funny.

My pal Christine was there, she’s wasn’t yet my friend

Although I seriously thought I would love her till the end.

But then the Squip activated!  It said, ‘Jeremy,

Everything about you completely wears on me.

You need to improve! You were a loser until

You showed some judgment and took this pill.’

Then Chloe showed up, she’s a bitch ass ho,

Beside her was Brooke, but clearly, Chlo was runnin’ the show.

I hurriedly picked up a shirt and said,

‘This was like Madeline’s- she was more than a friend

But now our relationship has come to an end.’

Chloe and Brooke happily ate up my lies.

‘Do you wanna ride?’ they said, lust in their eyes.

‘Sure!’ I said, ‘But wait, no Michael!’

If I left him it would start a bad cycle.

And I wouldn’t want that- no, Michael’s my pal!

‘When this is over,’ I thought, ‘I’ll have to find him a gal.’

Ha! Well, it turned out Michael is gay.

I guess I’ll have to find out for who another day.”

Michael stopped the beat, taking off his headphones. “That was a good start, Jeremy, considering it was improv.”

“Ah, thanks.” Jeremy crossed his arms, smug.

The basement lights came back on, revealing a very surprised looking Mr. Heere. Michael gave him the rock and roll hand signal.

“Jeremy, when I said I wanted a past explanation for the past few months, this wasn’t what I expected. Wait... what the hell's a Squip?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the P!ATD “Camisado” makes me think of Jeremy.
> 
> I'm cackling simply because the last sentence is the name of the next chapter in "Experimenting"
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.


	15. If You Were Gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you were gay, that'd be okay.  
> I mean, cause, hey! I'd like you anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Spend time writing chapter*  
> *Checks word count*  
> *Cries*

As the fictional camera cut back inside the granite kitchen in Brooke’s mansion, it metaphorically panned over the character’s faces. The Squip Squad was caught in slow motion in various states of shock.

Jake and Rich were in the air, in the middle of high-five-ing each other. Christine was also suspended in the middle of a jump, one of those theater moves where the dancer runs, jumps in the air, and kicks their heels together. It was very impressive when Michael contrasted Christine’s height to the actual height of her jump. In the back, Chloe discreetly slipped Brooke twenty dollars, and Brooke wore a smirk that was almost as mischievous as her bright pink monkey bathrobe. When had she managed to put it on? Was it lying in wait inside the demon spin-the-bottle bottle?

But, Michael… Michael was flying high. He was almost as high as Jeremy, except Jeremy was not high and was just plain drunk, so maybe his simile wasn’t as great as he thought.

Jeremy wasn’t straight. _Jeremy wasn’t straight_. Mr. “No Homo” was here (heh, Heere) and queer. The LGBTQ+ community really scored with this boy. Most mostly Michael. Oh, fuck, did he actually have a chance now?

Obviously not. He’d been in love with the boy for a very long time. Of course, he was not keeping up with the current dating game so he wouldn’t know. An ideal date to him was being with his date at the movies, sharing Milk Duds and laughing obnoxiously at the shitty dialogue. Or maybe just hanging in his basement, playing video games with someone leaning on his shoulder. Or he was leaning on someone else’s shoulder; Michael wasn’t picky.

Oh, or maybe a trip to an amusement park, shrieking as the roller coaster plunged downwards, his boyfriend’s hair flying into his face and both of them laughing, joined hands raised above them in a salute to the endless sky.

Shit, who was he kidding. He was imagining Jeremy.

There was only one question to ask. Time returned to its normal pace, and Michael turned to Jeremy, opening his mouth to ask--

“Who the fuck turned Jeremy bishreksual?” said Rich, beating Michael to the punch.

Jake punched Rich. “Not in my swamp!”

Brooke tore the ten dollar bill in half and handed a piece to Chloe.

Michael shrugged Jeremy’s head off his shoulder. Jeremy, who had somehow been nodding off since his declaration, jolted awake.

“Wha?”

Michael pulled them both to their feet. “Up you go.” Jeremy swayed.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Well, ya hafta,” Michael grumbled as he pulled him out of the kitchen. “Brooke, where’s your bathroom?”

Ignoring the giggles and whispers following their exit, Michael strode out into the hallway, Jeremy in tow. Then, for the fourth and hopefully final time, he went down, Jeremy with him.

Blushing at the raucous laughter that followed them, Michael went to find the bathroom, Jeremy slipping behind him.

His reasoning, he thought as Jeremy’s arms windmilled practically before grabbing Michael’s hoodie, was that cold water would help Jeremy come back to himself. The kitchen sink wouldn’t do, although it was much more convenient, because Michael wanted some privacy. Jeremy was a private person, surely he’d be grateful that it would only be him and Michael went he became sober. (Michael didn’t know anything about alcohol, but Jeremy really didn’t have that much to drink, and Michael didn’t particularly want to slap anyone today.)

Although he just might if the only way to a bathroom in Brooke’s gigantic house was up the damn stairs. Keep calm and don’t slap a bitch, Michael.

Luckily for Jeremy’s well-being as well as his own, he discovered the entrance to the right of the left banister. They entered the room together, and Michael nudged Jeremy to the shower. He turned on the shower, setting the water to a frigid winter temperature.

He apologized to Jeremy before shoving Jeremy’s head under the cold stream of water and holding it there.

“Argh, what the hell?!”

Spluttering and jerking out of the water, Jeremy faced Michael. He was back. Go, Michael!

He wiped his dripping hands on his jeans. “Dude, I’m so sorry, but your lightweight ass got drunk.”

“Oh. Thanks, I guess,” Jeremy said, shivering. He started shaking his head to get the water out like a dog, but out of self-preservation Michael grabbed a towel that hung on the back of the door and handed it to him. There was silence as Jeremy finished toweling off his hair.

Upon seeing his distress, Michael took off his hoodie, handing it to him. Skinny boys needed some extra cushioning, and luckily Michael had more than enough to spare. Jeremy started as if happening upon a holy relic. “But, Michael… Your hoodie...”

Shit, he loved this boy. “You can have it for now.”

They both didn’t comment on how Michael never let anyone _touch_ his precious hoodie, much less wear it. This was a special occasion indeed.

Michael sank down to a seating position, leaning against the counter. The other boy joined him.

Shivering, Jeremy fumbled with the oversized fabric, eventually poking his wet curls through the top and pulling the soft hoodie down. It was a good hoodie, probably one of Michael’s prized possessions, and certainly his signature one. Leaning against the counter that housed the sink, he put his head on Michael’s shoulder.

Michael casually hummed in response, but internally he was breaking out the party poppers and horns. Confetti rained everywhere and a ghostly mariachi band played the samba. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he said casually.

“About what?” Michael gave Jeremy a look. “Okay, fine. I’ve been bi for a while, okay?”

His calm demeanor broken, Michael chuckled, surprised. “I meant to comment on why you drank, since you usually don’t do that. But sure, let’s talk about your sexuality. I’m not straight either! Let’s talk.”

Jeremy looked at his hands, hidden in the hoodie’s giant front pocket. You could fit seven calculators in there. Michael knew this because he had tried it himself. Calculators were a totally valid unit of measurement, why did people always look at him weird when he said that? Hoodie statistics were a common fact of life.

Belatedly, Michael realized Jeremy was talking, which was a shame because he had been waiting for this conversation a very long time.

“Jer, I’m super sorry, but can you repeat everything you just said? I wasn’t listening, but I promise I care.”

“You were thinking about your eight-calculator sized hoodie pocket, weren’t you?”

“Seven.” They both looked at the pocket in question. “And yes.”

Jeremy pulled a pride flag out of it without too much effort. “Why?” It wasn’t one of those dinky 6 by 4 inch crap flags. It was a full sized rainbow flag.

“Why? Oh, um… It was a bet with Brooke, I think. We have to wear a pride flag for a week inconspicuously. She has a matching one stuffed in her clothes somewhere. Now that I think about it, the flag might actually be in her bra.”

“Oh, yeah, Brooke’s not straight either. She’s bi?”

“No, pan.” Michael suddenly realized the purpose of the oversized bathrobe. That bitch.

Jeremy didn’t have the same realization, leaning back contently and closing his eyes. “Cool. Anyway, so I’m bi.” He left it there. Michael couldn’t stand it.

“And?”

“What d’ya mean, ‘and’?”

“Well, I mean, I’m gay, and my best friend comes out? This is like, the gay dream. I want to hear more. How’d you know? Do you like anyone? Can we finally talk about hot boys together?”

Jeremy stiffened, lifting his head off Michael’s shoulder and leaning away. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“You don’t have to get defensive about it...”

“ _I’m not getting defensive!_ ” Jeremy shouted, slamming his hands down on the tiles on the floor.

Silence. Michael, embarrassed, didn’t mention that their exchange was a parody of _Avenue Q_ ’s “If You Were Gay”. Because that hit a little too close to home. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hurt/comfort scene is next. I left myself no choice.
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos makes the world go round.


	16. An Attempt at Hurt/Comfort (Finally)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. It's been a while.  
> Life is crazy, but your support makes me write more stuff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how hard it was for me to keep the sad mood. I had to write the dialogue ahead of time. Ugh.

Michael missed his hoodie. Michael was cold. Michael was uncomfortable. Michael also wished that he could stop thinking about himself in third person. Just kidding, that choice wasn’t up to him.

The tension between him had made the gaseous air atoms between him and Jeremy sublimate into a solid. The silence could legitimately be cut with a knife.

The man of the hour sat stiffly beside Michael. He was a boy, but that didn't matter because the situation was the same.

Why did Jeremy get defensive? Because he definitely did. Michael was oblivious, but not that oblivious.

(Then they kissed and I cried out of frustration and pent-up sexual tension.) ((I have no memory of writing this but I opened up the document to continue writing and found it, so obviously I left it in.))

The cold tiles pressed uncomfortably into the part of Michael’s butt that wasn’t padded by the hoodie.

Beside him, Jeremy imitated a squid and had dramatically changed color, matching hues with the towel hung on the door rack. The towel was a dark maroon. Jeremy was also maroon. What Michael was trying to say was that Jeremy was blushing.

In addition to having copious amount of accumulated blood in his face, Jeremy was also staring steadfastly at the ground, his knuckles white from him clenching them around his faded blue cardigan.

He was upset, obviously. Michael wished he knew why. It could be possible that Jeremy was an emotional drunk, but it was unlikely because Jeremy was sober right now. He didn’t want to assume anything because he knew what happens when you assume: you make an ass out of you and me.

Just kidding, but he seriously would refrain from assuming, but he could speculate all he wanted. The silence between them invited thought.

So Michael asked himself why was Jeremy upset. And couldn’t find an answer.

And couldn’t find an answer.

And couldn’t find an answer.

Why? He mentally smacked the head of his mental self against the wall, hoping to spark an idea. (Yes, he had a mental persona, a cooler, newer version of him, inside his head. Didn’t everyone?) Michael hadn’t done or said anything to piss Jeremy off. Jeremy was surprisingly easy to anger, but usually it only showed through silence, distancing himself from civilization, or the occasional angry twitch.

He created a persona of Jeremy to accompany Michael 2.0. In his head, Michael 2.0 shook Jeremy, asking him, _Jeremy, you idiot, what’s wrong?_

That… actually wasn’t a bad thing to do in real life.

“Jer, what’s wrong?” Michael asked Jeremy gently, finally breaking the oppressive silence. “Oh, gosh, did I say something stupid or offensive? You know that I have no filter, and I’m sorry for that. But seriously, did I do something?”

Oh, yes. Michael was rambling, but he was also artfully probing. It was truly a problem with him that he didn’t have much of a filter, and whatever fragments he had of it completely dissolved when he was with Jeremy. Many, many years of friendship could do such things. As the two of them grew up together, they had asked so many weird questions and done so many socially unacceptable things in front of each other that it removed the necessity of a filter for the two.

For example, Michael was renowned for his weird-ass 2AM texts. After midnight, he became a fucking philosopher. An example of their most recent conversation went like this:

 

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: jer

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: jerrrrr

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: r u awakeeee

I’m_Right_Heere: It’s two thirty in the morning, of course I’m awake.

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: rly?

I’m_Right_Heere: NO, OF COURSE NOT!

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: o right you have to sleep for like 12 hrs a night

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: or u become a cranky baby

I’m_Right_Heere: Was there something you wanted? Or will this become a philosophical debate concerning human nature and/or morality?

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: close

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: i read this comic about 2 rats on tumblr who were debating abt whether it was better not to cooperate with the tests and escape

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: or stay in the cage in relative comfort w/o hope and accepting things the way they are

I’m_Right_Heere: Oh. Okay. Continue.

5Ft_Apart_Cause_Not_Gay: ratsbutmetaphorical.jpeg

I’m_Right_Heere (five minutes later): Oh, shit. Oh, wow.

I’m_Right_Heere: Well, shit. Let’s talk. I think---

 

Oh, good times. Which certainly wasn’t what happening right now. Shit, what _was_ happening?

Jeremy’s head was turned away from Michael, but he abruptly realized that Jeremy’s shoulders were shaking. It took a full second for him to realize that Jeremy was suppressing sobs.

Michael, abruptly brought back into the present, had no literal idea what to do. I mean, he loved the guy, but Michael was always the emotional one, not Jeremy. Jeremy and his emotions had the same relationship as he did with girls, which is to say no relationship at all. Except some girls occasionally acknowledged Jeremy’s presence, which Jeremy didn’t do at all with his emotions.

That wasn’t to say that Jeremy was a psychopath or a high functioning sociopath, as cool as it would have been to be John to Jeremy’s Sherlock. Michael had read up on it once when Jeremy had told him about it when they had gotten high together, something about displacing your emotions as a coping technique. It was super unhealthy, but it wasn’t like he could tell Jeremy how to deal with his emotions. So Michael had told Jeremy that he could come to him whenever, and that was the best that Michael could have done in that situation.

There was no way for Michael to know that Jeremy never had to use that unhealthy coping technique around him, that Michael was the one person that Jeremy could truly be himself around.

That, until recently, he was the one person Jeremy could talk to him about absolutely anything.

That Jeremy was crying in a bathroom because withholding his emotions from Michael was having a physical toll on him.

That Jeremy was crying in a bathroom because he couldn’t tell Michael what he wanted so badly to say to him.

That Jeremy was crying in a bathroom because he was scared, scared of rejection and loss of friendship and unrequited love--

But there was no way for poor, oblivious Michael to know that, and that very same poor, oblivious Michael still had no idea what to do. So, being a relatively touchy guy, he leaned forward into Jeremy, sliding his arm onto Jeremy’s thin shoulder. Considering all the food he ate, the teen was stupid skinny, like a bird. Jesus. And with all the junk that Michael made him eat. (He had a theory that all of Jeremy’s fat somehow teleported to him. Maybe Jeremy invented a machine that did that- Michael wouldn’t have put it past him, and Jeremy was certainly smart enough to do so.)

And when Michael’s arm was on Jeremy’s shoulders, the other boy suddenly twitched, turned around, and buried his face into Michael’s sweatshirt. Michael found it important to note that he was full out sobbing while he did it.

And-- woah, Michael was not anticipating that response. Not being all that great with emotions himself, his little love-struck heart started pounding, and he was worried that it would either leap out of his chest or Jeremy would be alerted to that fact that it was beating so fast.

Luckily, or unluckily (because he didn’t like Jeremy being sad), Jeremy was still crying hard enough not to notice. And suddenly it hit Michael; his lifelong crush was crying into his chest (sweatshirt), Jeremy was seeking comfort from _him_ , and suddenly Michael felt on top of the world, even though he was obviously still sad and Jeremy was as well.

So Michael enveloped the skinny boy in a hug, letting his oversized red hoodie wrap over them both.

Michael didn’t say anything, partially because he still didn’t know what to say because _holy shit_ Jeremy was crying, and partially because he wanted to let Jeremy get it all out.

He continued to hug Jeremy, both of them relishing in the other’s warmth. Michael suddenly became aware of cold stains of his sweatshirt, evidence of Jeremy’s tears. If he knew what was bothering Jeremy, he would hunt down the person who made him feel sad and murder them in cold blood.

But words still failed him, and he still didn’t know what was bothering Jeremy, so he hugged Jeremy tighter, the boy still shaking in his arms.

And then, suddenly, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, he knew what to do.

 _“Kshehalev boche, rak Elohim shomea,”_ Michael sang softly into Jeremy’s hair, the bathroom tiles catching his voice and working it in strange ways, making it deeper and more musical than it actually was.

See, when the Squipcident reached its fated end and their popularity had increased exponentially, Jeremy had finally worked up the courage to sign up for the school choir. His one condition was that Michael signed up with him.

Were they being codependent? Nope. Jeremy knew how much Michael loved music, and since they both sang _all the time_ , joining the choir only managed to solidify another bond between them.

So as it turned out that they were both really talented singers, and that they both were apparently destined for more than shower singing or shouting along to the blaring lyrics in Michael’s PT Cruiser.

Jeremy, however, was chosen to perform a solo at the upcoming concert. Being the unexpected sentimental fuck that he was, Jeremy had chosen a Hebrew song. Oh, yeah, Jeremy’s mom was Israeli so he could speak Hebrew fluently. Did he never mention that?

Although he didn’t embrace the culture, especially after his mom left. One of the only fights that e and Michael had was when twelve-year-old Jeremy had told Michael that he was never speaking Hebrew again because it reminded him of his mom and therefore angered him. Twelve-year-old Michael essentially told Jeremy to stop his bullshit, because being bilingual was rad. Jeremy yelled at Michael to shut up, that he didn’t need _another_ mother, and slammed the door on his way out.

Five minutes and a good sulk later, Jeremy had stalked in holding back a smile and sulkily told Michael that it was his own house, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t go anywhere else.

They had both started laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, and Jeremy had quietly agreed that he was being childish and Michael was right. ( _Don’t let it get to your head, Michael, it was just once_ , Jeremy had said, hitting him lightly.)

Good times.

Anyway, Jeremy had chosen a Hebrew song for his performance, and though he hadn’t explicitly told Michael what it was, it was obvious when it was the only thing Michael heard resounding off the shower walls and out the bathroom window from Jeremy’s house for the next two days. They were next door neighbors, after all.

Five Google searches and twenty minutes later, because putting Hebrew words into English letters was just about as hard as it sounded, Michael had found the song and memorized it, hoping to surprise Jeremy one day.

Today was apparently that day. The song was a sad one, but hopefully it would cheer Jeremy up.

_“Kshehalev boche rak Elohim shomea_

_Hake’ev ole mitoch haneshama.”_

As Michael sang quietly into Jeremy’s hair, Jeremy stiffened for a second, then relaxed in him. Michael wrapped his arms around him.

_“Adam nofel lifney shehu shoke’a_

_Bitfila ktana chotech et hadmama.”_

When Michael finished the verse, he stopped singing completely, listening as the echo reverberated around the bathroom.

Jeremy had stopped crying,  which was a plus. “H-how do you know that?”

“Magic.” Jeremy managed to give him the stink-eye through red-veined eyes and swollen eyelids. “Okay, okay, I heard you singing it a couple times.”

An expression flashed across Jeremy’s face and disappeared as soon as it appeared. Was it-- disappointment?

Stupid, it wasn’t like Jeremy was saving that song for him.

… Right?

It didn’t matter, because, honestly, whew, crisis averted. Michael suddenly became aware of their close proximity and wow, Jeremy was practically sitting on his lap. Oh, okay. This was cool, Michael thought as he tried not to hyperventilate. Jeremy, Mr. “Don’t Touch Me”, was currently situated between his legs. Coolcoolcoolcool.

Trying to distract himself, Michael sang to Jeremy, “The Internet is really really great--”

As Jeremy realized their positions, he jumped but didn’t move away. “ _Why_ do you bring up that stupid porn song up now?” But he smiling now, which was good. A happy Jeremy made for a happy Michael, except that happy Jeremy was making to blow his nose on his sleeve, and he couldn't have that.

Slightly disgusted, Michael reached over and handed him a piece of toilet paper. They were in a bathroom, for crying out loud.

As Jeremy accepted the makeshift tissue gratefully and blew his nose, he asked, “You asked me how I knew that I was bi?” He said this for the third and hopefully final time, because _damn_ , Michael really wanted to know.

Michael nodded, not wanting to say anything or seem too excited in case Jeremy changed with mind.

“Y-you were... Before. Right, I mean.” He dragged his hands down his face. “Ugh. Words fail. I-I’m trying to say that you were right before. I d-do like someone.”

“Jeremy!” Michael gasped enthusiastically, and suddenly, the mood shifted into something happier. No, not happier, maybe the right word was ‘lighter’ because even though Jer wasn’t crying anymore, Michael’s heart felt like it was shattering into a billion pieces. “That’s amazing! We gotta celebrate. We gotta… get stoned in my basement!” He paused, trying to laugh through the pain in his chest. “Wait, that doesn’t make sense. We’re at Brooke’s house, and why would we celebrate by getting stoned?”

Jeremy chuckled weakly, wiping the last stray tears from his eyes. “You’re such a dork.”

“Hey.” Michael poked Jeremy in the side, but his question was said earnestly. “Are you okay now? Are we cool?”

“Of course,” Jeremy said, Michael’s rich tenor voice singing the song playing on repeat in his head. “Of course we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I totally recommend that you listen to the song. It's called "When the Heart Cries" and personally one of my favorite songs. Here's a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bBCIefOfUKY 
> 
> Also for those who want more of my writing, I wrote this stupid skit for my band section a week ago with my Boyfs in mind. It's called "Crack Gong Show: Meta Edition" and it's kinda stupid but I love it anyway.
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.


	17. Videogayme Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I provide you with some of my fanart and say some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) School is starting in a few days so updates from now on will be relatively infrequent. I plan to have one chapter posted every one or two weeks, but I absolutely can't guarantee that, altho I will try my hardest. (I hope I won't lose interest because my BMC obsession has been provided closure and is finally starting to wane. Rip.)
> 
> 2) I saw BMC live on 9/2/18. It was awesome, amazing, 11/10 would recommend. George Saladbar is even better live, and the pit waved at the audience before they started playing (as a person who participates in pit orchestra, that's A+). I'll be excited to gush about the musical here in the comments or chat about it at my tumblr mermaidmayonnaise.

Fun fact: I tried to read FFY(L) a few days ago from cover to... wherever and whatever it is now. Would you like to know what happened?  
After six or seven chapters, I got bored and went to do something else. I got BORED. Of my OWN STORY. That I WROTE. (It makes me feel better that I reread some of the more recent chapters and was fairly happy with them.)  
The point of this is that without everyone's unending support, this story definitely wouldn't exist beyond Chapter 4, and evolve into the slightly better-written story that it is today. Thanks for everything. 

\-----

So, I said that if I get a certain amount of kudos, I would include the Boyf riends dancing to "Fergalicious" during the karaoke chapter sometime soon. That'll be in two chapters, but I changed the song to something better. Enjoy the next chapter in the meantime, you nerds (I say this in an extremely affectionate tone).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a slightly less somber note, I wanted to let y'all know that if you, as the reader, comment what you want to see happen next (like funny phrases, dances, one-liners, headcanons, etc) in the comments anywhere in the fic, I will read it and maybe it will go into the actual story. (Just wanted to additionally note that these aren't major plot points. I already have this planned out.)
> 
> On the Gdoc where I write my fic, I have three separate pages of these bullet pointed one-liners/funny phrases/etc that I incorporate into the story as I write it. If I think what you write is hilarious, I'll probably include it in subsequent chapters.
> 
> One last thing. Since it'll be a while until the next chapter because life's a bitch, have Brooke Lohst singing "Party Hat" with the SQUIP. Don't believe me? Just watch. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWYFns4joDs -
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.


	18. I'm Too Young to Be Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go up the stairs and join the others. That's it. That's all that happens.
> 
> IT'S THE TWO MONTH ANNIVERSARY FOR THIS FIC I JUST REALIZED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please go back to chapter 17, which is now an actual chapter, and validate me.  
> School continues. I do marching band, and those of you who are familiar the horror of MB know what a time-consuming activity it is and forgive me for not having any free time until it ends.

Michael sighed and hefted himself up, swaying slightly on the tiled floor as he managed to regain his balance. Jeremy took Michael’s extended hand and stood as well, wrapping his blue cardigan around him.

Was Michael super disappointed that Jeremy wasn’t going to tell him who he liked? Of fucking course. Twelve years of friendship apparently hadn’t garnered him complete and mutual trust. But was Michael going to press Jeremy further? Of fucking course not.

“Where are the others?” Jeremy said, nudging Michael, who had no clue.

“I have no clue,” he said, out of lack of anything better to say.

“Let’s get out of here and find them, yeah?” Jeremy suggested, because he was suddenly British for some reason, and pushed Michael out of the bathroom, cautious of the slippery floor right outside (the others were nowhere to be seen). He was so smart. Michael was in looooove, and- yep, that was the cheesiest sequence of thoughts that he had ever had.

Wait. Didn’t Michael tell Jeremy that he liked Jake?

Goddamit. He did. He’d have to clear that up sometime, and there was no time like the present, especially as he was concentrating on not faceplanting.

“Speaking of the others,” Michael hiked up his hideous blue-and-pink weed socks in an effort to gain more friction on the floor, “do you remember when I said that I liked Jake?”

Jeremy stiffened. “Yes.” The word was short and clipped.

“I forgot to tell you the story behind all that jazz.”

“There’s a story?” The frigidness tone in his voice was well concealed, but Michael, who knew Jeremy’s speaking patterns like the back of his hand, caught it.

(Who even came up with that phrase, anyway? Michael, an actual artist, had tried to draw his hand from memory. He didn’t even remember what it _looked_ like, much less the front of his hands.

But the phrase worked in this situation, so he did whatever he always did in a situation where he didn’t understand something: he let it go.

Like Elsa. Ice powers were cool. Yes, that was a double pun.)

Choosing to ignore both Jeremy’s stiffness and his thoughts, Michael trudged on. “Yeah, so I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. It’s not real.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Even when he was upset. Jeremy couldn’t resist bringing up inside jokes with Michael. This particular one was whenever a play that Jeremy participated in, he would act and talk like an old man right before the play started. It was so fucking weird, and Michael always had to fight back a smile regardless.

“I don’t like Jake--”

“You _don’t_?!” squeaked Jeremy. Then, trying to cover his very obvious voice crack, he lowered his voice an octave and tried again. “I mean, you don’t?”

“Yeah. I never did.” Michael shrugged. “Dustin asked me out, which I still can’t believe happened by the way, and I didn’t want to accept his invitation or whatever because of my moral ethics concerning douches, and more importantly, his disgusting nacho breath.”

Jeremy’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he caught on. “So Jake was just an excuse to get out of it?”

“Dude. You thought I liked Jake?”

Jeremy looked down. “Obviously. I mean, he’s cool, he’s popular, he’s good-looking, what’s not to like?” His hands picked at loose threads on his cardigan. “I thought you’d want to date him more than m-- anyone else.”

Michael swatted Jeremy’s hands away; that cardigan had been through more than enough in the past year. “Jer, buddy, I love you, but sometimes you’re so goddamn stupid.”

“WDYM?” said Jeremy. “Wait, how and why did I say an acronym out loud? WTF? Michael, make it stop, I’m not a specific teenage girl named Jenna!”

“IDK how,” Michael said, catching Jeremy’s hands in his. “Anyways, Rich and Jake have been dating since the start of senior year.”

“I somehow… didn’t know this?”

“So when Rich sat in Jake’s lap in the cafeteria, what the fuck did you think was happening?”

“Rich is a pretty touchy-feely guy…”

Michael knuckled his forehead in exasperation. “You’re hopeless.”

“And you’re… Michael!” Michael shot him a murderous look. “Okay, _okay,_ fine, I’ll stop, ow! Quit hitting me.”

“I will if you stop making those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad puns. Moving on, I have a theory that the Squip didn’t let Rich come out until you destroyed all of the Squips. And, let’s face it, Rich is pretty fucking gay.”

“That makes sense,” Jeremy said, nodding. “Maybe it programmed some kind of internalized homophobia into all of its users. Y’know, because being gay isn’t ‘cool’ and shit. The Squips were pretty damn homophobic.”

“How would you know?”

This time, Jeremy hit him. “I’m bi, dumbass.”

“Oh, yeah... Also, ow, you freakishly strong twink.” Michael absentmindedly rubbed the sore spot on his shoulder.

Jeremy was stuck on the previous subject. “How did I not know they were dating? Am I so oblivious that I didn’t know two of my closest friends were doin’ the do? _How?_ ”

“Yeah,” Michael said smugly because he was a lil’ shit. “They’ve been dating for a while.

Jeremy looked agitated. “Why does no one ever tell me anything?”

“Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time with your nose in a book or a video game and your head in the clouds, you’d notice something.”

Jeremy was in denial. “You’re wrong.” 

“No, I’m right.” Michael pulled out his phone. “Exhibit A: our group chat, titled, ahem, ‘The Jeremy Heere Protection Squad.’

Everyone had just agreed that I am hot--” Jeremy sputtered, and Michael ignored him. “And you said, and I quote, ‘Hey @Jake, aren’t you straight?’ and he said, ‘Homeslice, have you got a lot to learn,’ and high fived Rich. Additionally, Exhibit B was when Rich sat on Jake’s lap at lunch, but I just said that.” He raised an eyebrow, confident in his victory. “What do you say to _that_?”

Jeremy knew when he was beaten, but not when to give up. “They’re just really good friends…?”

Michael clapped his hands triumphantly. “You stupid, oblivious fuck.”

Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “You’re just as oblivious as I am.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong.”

“No, I mean, seriously.” Jeremy skidded to a stop, grabbing Michael to decrease their combined chances of slipping. “I think we just passed the others.”

Michael spewed a torrent of expletives. “And you’re just saying this now?!”

“Well, a dark room with multicolored flashing lights only catches my attention after a few seconds! My cognitive process has a delay system!”

“Your cognitive process is faulty!” Michael dragged his hands down his face when he realized said room was on the upper level, and he had to brave the stairs once again. He groaned loudly, partially because he could and partially because it annoyed Jeremy.

Predictably annoyed, Jeremy clapped his hands over Michael’s mouth. “Shut up and listen!”

Michael shut up and listened.

Very faintly, music emanated from a room on the top level, somewhere near the room where they had been before. The door to it was slightly ajar, and multicolored lights flashed and lit everything around it sporadically. The music itself was familiar, and Michael removed Jeremy’s hand from around his mouth and put his own to his ear.

“ _I pray for the wicked on the weekend,_

_Mama, can I get another amen,_

_Oh, it’s Saturday night!”_

“It’s Friday night!” shouted Jeremy, channeling his previously mentioned grumpy inner old man. He wasn’t a huge fan of Panic! at the Disco. Michael was. Why were they even friends? And he _liked_ this dude, bad music taste and all. Love had no boundaries, apparently.

Bouncing up and down in time to the music, he ran to the closest banister, but not before dragging Jeremy’s cardigan and its current occupant with him.

The power of Panic! made his climb faster than ever before, leaving Jeremy far, far behind him (all ten feet). Brandon Urie’s singing voice gave him strength. He was almighty. He was all-knowing. He was… out of breath. Godammit.

Jeremy streaked past him in a flash of blue, yelling something about the tortoise and the hare. Michael retorted that good music overrode obscure fables. By then, both of them were up the stairs and peeking into the room together.

Everyone inside heard the creaking of the door and turned to face them in unison.

Instead of blank stares of their faces, their countenances were smiling. Instead of a shitty underfunded high school auditorium, there was a large room with carpeted floors, a karaoke machine, and a cheap disco ball.

“Hey!”

“Hey,” Michael said, blinking away the flashback (and his undiagnosed PTSD), slightly overwhelmed at the thudding of the base and the bright lights.

Jake waved from a couch facing the television, which was still flashing lyrics to _Say Amen! (Saturday Night_ ). “I heard you, Jer. I can’t believe you didn’t know I’m dating this dumbass.” He gestured expansively to all five feet five inches that was Richard Goranski. “Although, I honestly don’t know why,” he added in a sotto voice.

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, dumbass,” Jake said to him, while Rich looked affronted. “Love you, babe.”

Rich made a heart gesture with his hands. “You too, babe.”

“Wholesome,” Brooke said, smirking.

Michael held back a gag, but when Christine pulled him and Jeremy into the room and in front of the karaoke machine he didn’t protest. Oh, well. C’est la vie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those you are confused, the old man is a nod to an interview by the BMC cast reboot. Their actor for Jeremy acts like an old man before performing. What a dork. I love him.
> 
> I'm on tumblr. Mermaidmayonnaise, come say hi (or like my fanart. Either is good)!  
> Note 9/25/18: This has 420 likes as of now. Michael would be so proud of you guys.  
> Also, as you may have noticed from lack of content, I'm totally swamped, but hopefully I'll write a chapter in the next month.  
> Note 10/9/18: Instead of writing the next chapter, I posted a small ficlet called "Yeah. It Really Is." It will probs be incorporated into the story itself later, but if you want more content from me you should check it out. (I may write something else this weekend.)  
> Note 10/17/18: So you can probably tell that I'm procrastinating on the next chapter by writing one scene a week for other stuff. I posted another one shot called "C'mon, Guys, Let's Go Play!"
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.


	19. I Wanna Dance with Somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter yet, which is sad b/c its only 2.6k. Second to last chapter.  
> Everyone dances and has a fantastic time while Michael reflects about his life. 11.18.18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to @CeaCeaYes and her description of the fic on her bookmark (yes, I check those). It made me laugh so hard and I couldn’t have summarized it better myself.
> 
> Also today was my school dance… Guess who didn’t go and wrote this instead. Let’s make good memories in a different place together.  
> \------------------------------------------------------  
> Hey, guys. It's been a really long time. I just finished my marching band season, and I take several AP classes and those have been, and there's really no nice way to say this, kicking my ass.  
> I included references and lines from just about everything, so if you catch my Easter Eggs then kudos to you.  
> I just wanted to say that this is the second to last chapter. I'll explain more in the end notes, but I really hope you enjoy reading this.

 “Jeremy! Michael!” Brooke cheered. “You finally got over your respective bisexual and gay crises! Come in and dance with us!”

“And we’ve got just the song for you,” Chloe said, finally carefree and truly herself for one of the only times of her life.

“Alexa, play _Despacito_!” Rich yelled before Jake tackled him and snatched his phone away, tossing it to Chloe.

Chloe stood before them, seemingly godlike as the multicolored lights illuminated her face in dramatic contrast to the dark ambiance of the room. There was a moment of silence as the last vocal of “Saturday Night” reverberated through the room. A perfectly manicured thumb painted in a bright purple poised over her phone. One tap.

Then the song started playing. It was an intro that Michael knew well, with a funky beat and trumpets.

_“Clock strikes upon the hour_

_And the sun begins to fade.”_

“Oh, holy shit,” Michael breathed. It was _the_ song. If Michael was represented by a song, this masterpiece would be it. He adored it. He loved it with an ardor rarely known to man. This song.

_“Still enough time to figure out_

_How to chase my blues away.”_

Rich pulled Michael into their crowd of dancing friends and Jake did the same for Jeremy. “Finally, some male representation.”

“Are the girls beating you at dancing?” Jeremy teased them.

Rich nodded sagely as Brooke gracefully shook her ass. “Absolutely.”

_“I've done alright up to now_

_It's the light of day that shows me how_

_And when the night falls, loneliness calls.”_

Michael had been lonely once. Before the Squipcident, Jeremy wasn’t the only one with a single friend. Quality over quantity was one of his mottos, but no one could only have one friend. You just couldn’t live like that.

But Michael was grateful, so grateful for Jeremy. If there was one person in his life that he was thankful for, it was him. Sometimes Michael would lay in bed, wondering what it would be like if he died. Would anybody miss him? Would anybody care?

His moms, of course. But Michael couldn’t think of any of his peers would care if he suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. There would be a school assembly, surely. The useless school administrations would drag in a few guest speakers, some mental health counselors to aid the students with the trauma when they realized that one of their classmates was dead, and probably a drug safety guy once they searched his locker and found the exorbitant amount of weed he had hidden there.

Jeremy was the only exception. Jeremy was the one who held his hand when Michael cried when he sobbed and tears streaked down his face.  Jeremy would care if he stopped existing.

_“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody_

_I wanna feel the heat with somebody.”_

But he had more friends now, friends that would care and comfort him. But strangely, that just made him appreciate Jeremy more. They were wonderful friends, but they were people too. They had their own problems and worries and motives.

Maybe it was unhealthy and an example of codependency, but it was reassuring to know that if Michael was going through some shit, the Jeremy would always put Michael first. And Michael would do the same for him. They were always there to catch the other when they fell. Life’s a two player game.

After all this time? Always, bitch.

_“Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody_

_With somebody who loves me.”_

The room was hot without feeling stuffy. The music was loud without feeling deafening. Rich was grinding against Jake without being too obvious. Michael was feeling good without feeling bad.

He was... good. He was better than good. Surrounded by all of his friends, he felt fucking fantastic.

And so he let himself go.

_“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody_

_I wanna feel the heat with somebody_

_Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody_

_With somebody who loves me.”_

He wanted to fly, but not in an escape-eque type of flying. Michael felt like if he just stretched out his arms and closed his eyes, he could float up. Fly through the ceiling and out into the dark night sky studded with stars and just coast on the breeze.

This time, taking to the air felt free, felt _right_ , felt like it should be the equivalent of the euphoria that he was experiencing inside and more.

_“I've been in love and lost my senses_

_Spinning through the town_

_Sooner or later, the fever ends_

_And I wind up feeling down.”_

Michael opened his eyes and looked around him, at the room filled with darkness and waving arms and stomping feet.

It wasn’t suffocating. Everyone there loved him, and he loved them right back. Overpowered by the seeming feeling of flight, he indulged his instincts and thrust his fist in the air and whooped in sheer enjoyment. Surprisingly, everyone joined him, waving their arms around and pumping their fists in time to the song.

It was like mob mentality but in a positive setting. They were interconnected through the power of music. They were one. And at that moment, Michael realized that there was no place that he’d rather be.

_“I need a man who'll take a chance_

_On a love that burns hot enough to last_

_So when the night falls_

_My lonely heart calls.”_

That last line of the stanza always reminded Michael of a bird. The bird was perched delicately on the cherry tree, in the spring when the sun was beginning to bless the earth again with its warmth. The tender grass would begin to poke out of the dirt, the bright green a contrast against the grungy mud.

The tree’s branches were laden with blossoms, their pink petals drifting in the warm breeze and unveiling their sweet scent. The long slim branches of the trees swayed gently, as a river burbled in the background.

The bird was a mourning dove, gray wings that led up to a blushing neck. Its black eyes glittered intelligently as it cocked its head, observing the comings of spring.

Then it would open its beak and begin to warble its sad song. The song was gentle, beckoning the listener to stare slack-jawed and simply absorb the song in its all encompassing beauty.

The melody warbled out clear and bright and mournful, a tribute to former times and staking out a hope for the future.

It was a new birth; a new beginning.

Michael’s heart was that mourning dove, gently singing in the swaying branches of the cherry tree of his chest. And people, real live human beings, had answered his call.

_“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody,_

_I wanna feel the heat with somebody,_

_Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody,_

_With somebody who loves me.”_

On an impulse, Michael grabbed Jeremy’s hand and spun him. Jeremy squealed as he happily complied, his bangs falling into his eyes.

_“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody,_

_I wanna feel the heat with somebody,_

_Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody,_

_With somebody who loves me.”_

Seeing their fun, the group danced over to them and formed a circle and bouncing, happy teenagers. There were stepped-on toes and elbows and muttered apologies, but everyone was giggling and laughing.

_“Somebody, oo! Somebody, oo!_

_Somebody who loves me, yeah!”_

Christine stepped into the center of the circle, singing dramatically into her clenched fist.

_“Somebody, oo! Somebody, oo!_

_To hold me in his arms, oh!”_

She hit the notes dead on, naturally, and everyone applauded her when she returned to the circumference.

Rich and Jake entered the circle, joined hands raised in an exaltation above their heads. They mouthed along with the lyrics enthusiastically as they belted together.

_“I need a man who'll take a chance,_

_On a love that burns hot enough to last._

_So when the night falls_

_My lonely heart calls!”_

A high note reverberated through the air as Jenna became the center and perfectly hit the highest note of the sing, complete with vibrato. Her voice could match Whitney Houston’s. Who knew? Michael whooped for her, and everyone else roared compliments and their astonishment.

Blushing, Jenna stepped back into the circle.

_“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody,_

_I wanna feel the heat with somebody._

_Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody_

_With somebody who loves me!”_

This was Chloe and Brooke’s turn, and they sang it with both style and confidence, high-fiving and bumping hips at the conclusion of the verse.

Brooke’s sweater was slipping off her shoulder, and Chloe’s makeup was smudged, Michael realized. He marveled at the sheer amount of… of friendship and trust and confidence that allowed people to unravel and relax and truly be themselves in front of others. He was honored that his friends, _his friends_ , would be comfortable enough to have pure unadulterated fun with him.

_“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody_

_I wanna feel the heat with somebody.”_

His thoughts turned to Jeremy. Michael first felt the heat curling in his lower abdomen when he thought of Jeremy, back before he knew what it was. He had just thoughtfully rubbed his stomach and wondered to himself, I want to be with a person who makes me feel this way. I want to always feel this good. I want to make Jeremy experience this wonderful bliss that I’m experiencing. I want us to experience this together.

_“Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody_

_With somebody who loves me._

_Don'tcha wanna dance with me, baby?_

_“Don’tcha wanna dance with me, boy?”_

He looked around at the people he’d known for most of his life, and he asked himself, what happened?

Michael used to be a loser, a loner who enjoyed the good things in life like vintage video games and sushi. He thought he was a good person, and it hurt for him to think that almost everybody wouldn’t accept him for who he was.

_“Hey, don'tcha wanna dance with me, baby?_

_With somebody who loves me.”_

If there was one thing he valued, it was individuality. All of the fakes, the people who slipped on their masks of makeup and hair gel, they weren’t real. The girls used to a prime example of this, more specifically Jenna, who catered to everyone’s every need.

Nobody knew or cared that Jenna was actually a great person. She had an amazing taste in music and made pastries that melted on your tongue and snorted when she laughed.

Jenna had shed her constructed personality over the past few months and metamorphosed into who she really was. They all had. This friend group had brought out the best of them.

Rich would text you memes and subtly include clever puns into jokes. He was obnoxious and loud, but it wasn’t a plot twist when Michael realized that he was also sensitive and caring.

Jake was kind and gentle. He was the boy who, if you fell and lay there in agony on the gritty asphalt with blood smeared on your palms, would come back to brush you off and give you a hand to help you up. He also had the option in his action menu that he would embrace you when you were upset and run a reassuring hand through your hair.

Brooke would also hug you when you were upset, but she would always say that she’d gut the person who made you sad with her pocket knife, so it was a trade-off. She truly was a badass-- if Michael ever decided to do something insane like skydiving, Brooke was the person to call. She’d make any activity entertaining and dangerous and exciting.

Chloe had a completely different than the one she displayed at school. Although she was kind and surprisingly philosophical, she would also play grunge music and head-bang the lyrics right along there with you. She had a lot of feelings and was more than willing to talk about them over text at three in the morning.

Christine was still perfect in virtually every way, even though she had her flaws like every normal person. She had a pure soul. Michael had nothing bad to say about her.

This wasn’t to say that they didn’t have their fights and petty drama. Michael knew that life, real life, not the ones portrayed on reality television and books and badly written fanfiction, was messy, and they were people and sometimes people disagree.

No, Michael was thinking that this, everything that they had all gone through, might have been worth it.

He regretted not spending time with all these amazing people earlier. But now he had the rest of his life to make memories with them. And that was just fine with him.

Everyone’s true colors had shone through. And they were beautiful.

_“Don'tcha wanna dance say you wanna dance_

_Don'tcha wanna dance!”_

Everyone yelled the lyrics enthusiastically, chests and lungs aching from the exertion but their jubilation soothing the burn. They didn’t care about tone quality or whether or not they hit the right notes. All they care about was conveying their excitement, the bubbling feeling in their chests. “Dance, dance!”

_“Don'tcha wanna dance say you wanna dance_

_Don'tcha wanna dance!”_

Brooke grabbed Chloe’s hand, and Chloe smiled beatifically. Jake bounced up and down with Rich and Jenna and Christine whooped. “Dance, dance!”

_“Don'tcha wanna dance say you wanna dance_

_With somebody who loves me!”_

Together they were one, throwing their hands up in the air in unison. There were grins on everyone’s faces as they danced, just enjoying. “Dance, dance!”

_“Dance!”_

Maybe everyone did deserve a happy ending.

_“I wanna dance with somebody_

_With somebody who loves me.”_

Michael often wondered if Jeremy was The One. He really, really hoped he was. Although he had no tangible way of knowing. In this universe, at least, there were no soulmates, with their marks and bright and warm and the feeling of being complete.

If this wasn’t love, Michael wasn’t sure that he wanted to other option.

Real life was messy. It was _hard_. But who wanted things to be easy?

_“I wanna dance with somebody_

_With somebody who loves me.”_

Someone suddenly turned around, and sharp blue eyes pierced soft brown ones.

Their faces were suddenly very close, two countenances reflecting in the eyes of the other. Both of them ceased dancing, frozen with bated breath.

Michael couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It was Jeremy. It was always Jeremy.

 

(This is the way the world ends.)

As the mosh pit of their friends continued their frenzied dancing, one of them bumped Jeremy, who suddenly stumbled forward. Their faces were _so_ close. Jeremy’s eyes were blue, blue speckled with green. Michael had never appreciated, truly appreciated them before, despite having obsessed over them a few chapters previously.

(This is the way the world ends.)

People always said that the eyes were windows to the soul. Michael saw Jeremy’s true nature then, and by the moon and the stars, he loved what he saw.

Jeremy gazed back at him, and Michael finally realized that it was with adoration. They were both hesitating, spellbound and stunned with their simultaneous revelation. Fuck it. It had taken them both long enough to figure all of this out.

Jeremy finally cupped Michael’s cheek and smoothed his thumb on his mouth gently. Michael’s breath hitched.

(This is the way the world ends.)

Their lips finally, finally,  _finally_ met.

(Not with a bang, but with a whimper.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you feel emotions? I hope you did. This chapter took me a while, both to write and to sit down to do it. I'll probably write a super long author's note at the end of the next chapter, but for now I'll spare you.  
> Please, please leave a comment if you liked the story. I always pour my all into these fics. FFY(L) has been an incredibly journey (of one person) for me, but I unfortunately started to lose interest.  
> Speaking of which, I've started writing a new fic titled "Of Flowers and Feelings" were Michael is a fanfic writer and there's a pretty big plot twist. I've decided to have the entire story written before I post the chapters, for three reasons.  
> 1\. I can edit and change plot stuff easier.  
> 2\. I don't lose interest halfway.  
> 3\. I can actually say I have an updating schedule.  
> My tumblr is mermaidmayonnaise if you want to scream at me or check out my art. Thanks again, guys.
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.


	20. It Was Always You (Falling for Me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter. The boyfs, who are now boyfs, watch the rising sun. It's a start of a new day, a new era, and everything will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I discovered the song that makes up this final chapter title a couple of months ago. It seems like it was written for this fic, and even its chorus fits the title. Is it a coincidence? Is it fate? The world may never know. 12.12.18
> 
> The song is "Always" by Panic! At the Disco. I was spellbound when I first heard it. My second thought is was it was the lyrical personification of the story.  
> I would strongly give it a listen, or at least put it on in the background while you read the chapter. I've discovered some of my favorite songs from fic recommendations.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GoFylcrxdM0&list=RD1uSHILSLMqE&index=27

And when their lips finally met, all that Michael saw an explosion of color behind his eyelids. Jeremy’s lips were soft and dry and warm and he couldn’t describe them less than _perfect_.

_Everytime we touch, I get this feeling, and everytime we kiss I swear I could fly._

Both of them were inexperienced with kissing, Jeremy slightly less so, but it _didn’t matter_ because it was Jeremy.

_Life is not the things we do, it’s who we do them with._

This was Jeremy, who liked to climb trees; Jeremy, who at age three somehow managed to break his arm at a gymnastics class; Jeremy, who always loved to create; Jeremy, who had a collection of glow in the dark stars pasted on the ceiling above his bed; Jeremy, who was now kissing Michael; and Jeremy, _who loved him._

He smiled against Jeremy’s lips, overwhelmingly happy, and Jeremy broke the kiss to look at him, his eyes soft and blue.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked, his face a flushed pink and looking down shyly.

Michael, overwhelmed with love for this boy, _this boy_ , couldn’t respond for a second. “You,” he choked out. “It’s always been you.”

Regret flashed across Jeremy’s face. “I wish I could say the same,” he sighed, looking down, “but I just couldn’t see what was in front of me the entire time.” Michael chuckled, and Jeremy looked up defensibly. “Hey, I know that sounds cliche!”

“You’re right, it does.” Michael smiled. “But you’re here, heh, Heere--” Jeremy punched him lightly, apparently the confession of mutual love didn’t exclude puns on one’s last name, “-- and that’s all that matters. It’s like displacement in physics- it’s a state function, and that means it doesn’t matter how you get there, or how many twists and turns, or positive and negative directions you go through along the way. All that matters is where you end up.”

“Michael,” Jeremy said, “that is the nerdiest and yet the most romantic thing that I have ever heard you say. I love you for that.”

Michael raised his eyebrow, blushing. “Don’t you mean in spite of that?”

“No, I’ll take you with or without the physics metaphors, you absolute and utter dork,” Jeremy laughed and kissed him again.

The rest of their friends cheered around them. To be honest, Michael had forgotten that they were even there.

 

It was later, much later. The party had concluded a while ago, the night fading away to be replaced with a tentative rising sun.

Jeremy and Michael had gone home together to Jeremy's house to talk things over. Mainly, they both repeated over and over about how they had no idea that the other had liked them back.

But this wasn't a perfect conclusion. There was all of that unresolved business with the Squip that had aggregated in its wake. There were all of the feelings to be talked over, the codependent tendencies, the jealousies, and situations. But that could all be smoothed over, mended, restored. They just had to work for it. And for the other person, they said, they would do anything.

The porch swing creaked gently under their combined weight as the black sky slowly released its grip on the night. The sound of the crickets gently faded away, even though the quiet murmuring of the two remained a constant undertone. Hours passed, and they stayed sitting together, enjoying each other’s company. At some point they had brought blankets and hot chocolate out there with them, the hot drinks long gone, and the mugs sat on the painted planks of the deck.

All was quiet. Peaceful.

And that brilliant orange sun continued to rise in the background in the school, painting the sky like a Monet masterpiece, all Impressionistic and warm colors. The trees stood a stark black against the sky, their jagged bare branches softened by the pure and unadulterated colors. It was the beginning of a beautiful day for the beginning of a beautiful moment, even if he and Jeremy were doing nothing at all.

See, that’s the beauty of love. Nothing is boring when you’re with that special person, even if you’re both sitting around doing absolutely nothing. It doesn’t have to be romantic love, either. Jeremy and Michael had loved each other platonically before, and Michael was glad that they had-- because that moment made _this_ moment seem so much more special.

Now instead of reflecting on old memories with Jeremy, he could share new ones with him in the future.

They would probably stay friends forever, certainly. But maybe they wouldn’t stay together forever. Maybe they would. But over the past year, Michael had learned that it didn’t really matter. You have to learn how to finally live in the moment, or life will whiz by you and you’ll be spinning in circles, worrying while it flashes by.

So that’s what he’d do-- and when he realized that, he also realized that he was finally, truly happy.

He didn’t worry about the future. He focused on how happy he was in the present. Michael was warm, happy, and his favorite person was leaning his head on Michael’s shoulder.

Friendship would last. It always did, it always had.

But for now, Michael didn’t want to look into the future, so he decided to live in the present with Jeremy. And looking at Jeremy, his brown curls falling onto his forehead and his blue, blue eyes and his perfect imperfectness, he decided that that was just fine with him.

Jeremy was looking at his phone, staring absentmindedly at the photo that started it all and tracing their faces lightly with his finger. He looked up, and their eyes met. A smile touched Michael’s lips.

“I guess we really did fall for each other,” Jeremy said, grinning back and reaching to hold Michael’s hand.

“Yeah,” said Michael, putting his head on Jeremy’s head. Jeremy, who was happily wearing a (Michael’s) sweatshirt, relaxed into him. “I guess we really did.”

 

_It was always you_

_Falling for me_

_Now there's always time_

_Calling for me_

_I'm the light blinking at the end of the road_

_Blink back, to let me know_

_(It was always you)_

_Blink back, to let me know_

_(It was always you)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And… that’s it. Thanks, guys. It’s been a wild ride. There's an Author's Notes posted in next chapter if you want to check it out. My brother said it was "inspiring" before he walked away to do something else, but I just wanted to say some things about this story.


	21. Author's Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I say things b/c I am sentimental. 12.13.18

Alright, guys. I'm going to put my author's note here. You obviously don't have to read it, but it reassures me that someone might be out there listening.

The hard thing about life is that it sucks. It’s hard and messy and there are people who like you and people who don’t, teachers who don’t care a whit about anything, and friends who never have time, and a family that’s sometimes too busy to acknowledge you.

This might not fully apply to you, or even to me. But I just want you, reader who’s skimming this in homeroom or on their phone or their living room couch, to know one thing.

Out there, there’s always someone who cares. Even though sometimes it might seem like you’re alone, you’re not, because no one’s ever really alone.

Find the people who make you smile. Take care of yourself. Do the things that make you happy.

 _Do the things that make you happy._ That’s so incredibly important.

When I started this fic, I had never written any kind of story, fictional or anything, before. I had read all of the fanfic for BMC, and I really wanted to contribute my own story. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I didn’t even know where it was going to go. But it made me _happy._

I still remember the morning after I wrote and posted the first chapter. When I posted it in the night before in a post-writing inducted stupor, I was resigned to the fact that no one would most likely read my story. I would get 5 kudos, at most. I was fully prepared to let the story die.

But then I woke up the next morning at 7:00 AM and biked to swim practice, sometime in early July. I checked my phone and logged into my account, curious to see if I got any hits. I didn’t expect any kudos whatsoever. So imagine my surprise when I got FOUR whole kudos in about seven hours after I went to sleep. This was a super big deal to me. Me, who had never seriously written creatively before and never received any serious validation whatsoever. This was _real_. People liked my work. People subscribed to see what I typed on my dirty school issued computer in a stress-induced haze.

And guys. I reread that same chapter recently. The first chapter is _terrible._

Writing is now one of my passions. It’s like writing this one story was a floodgate, the dam that burst and spewed water everywhere. I now write everyday, not for kudos or validation, but because _I want to._

BMC is a special type of fandom in my opinion. The people that it attracts are a certain type of people, usually ones that listen to _More Than Survive_ and think, Finally. Somebody GETS it. And then they can connect with other people in the fandom, people similar to them but different at the same time.

Why do I like BMC? Because as great as a plot of a wintergreen tic-tac brainwashing a socially backward chronic masturbator and attempting to take over the world too is hilarious, but not something I’d be obsessed with for almost three quarters of a year.

Spoiler alert: it’s the characters. I love the characters. I also love that they’re not too specific, so every person can internalize them and cater them to their own needs. Everyone does that with characters in literature, but I think that BMC is so effective b/c it talks about what teens are really afraid of- rejection, being alone, virginity, social norms, sexuality, etc. The musical has so much to unpack, and the fans are more than willing to add their two cents. That’s why the musical is so special. It’s not the musical itself- it’s what people make of it.

I recently read _The Perks of Being A Wallflower,_ and one line really stuck with me. The main character, Charlie, went on a date with a girl and saw a movie. When it was over, Charlie said he didn’t like the movie because he didn’t feel any different when it was over.

That line was really powerful, and that’s exactly the reason I remembered it even after the rest of the book faded away.

I read on Tumblr once that if you write what you love, your writing is special and it sparkles. I hope this story sparkled in that way and made you feel different, or at least feel _something_ now that it’s over _._ Writing makes me happy, and I always pour my all into it. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I've appreciated every kudos, read every bookmark, and cherished every single comment you've ever left me.

I’m writing another story for BMC called “Of Flowers and Feelings” so hopefully I’ll see you around. Goodbye, and good luck in every single one of your endeavors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is mermaidmayonnaise, and I post my fanart and other various stuff there. (Side note: I'm in the middle of editing this fic for typos since I finally finished writing it, so if you see the date change then that's why.)
> 
> Comments make my day, and kudos make the world go round.

**Author's Note:**

> C-c-c-c’mon, c-c-c-c’mon, let’s go!  
> C-c-c-c’mon, c-c-c-c’mon, let’s go!  
> Let’s go-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ooooooo!
> 
> My tumblr is mermaidmayonnaise if you want to ask me where I get my strange ideas.


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